Guard Your Heart
by Ridley C. James
Summary: When Mac is shot by an unknown assailant Jack must revisit a painful reminder from his past. Digging into the truth of what happened will bring him and the team face to face with both old friends and forgotten foes.
1. Chapter 1

Guard Your Heart

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: I said I wasn't going to do another multi-chapter so quickly, but then the muse decided otherwise. This is set before Director Thornton's exit because I wasn't sure of our feisty new director's personality yet, so the time-line in this one is a little off. This may also become a crossover at some point(insert evil grin here). Thank you to all who have written lovely encouragement. I hope you enjoy the new story. Maybe it will make the weeks until we get another new episode pass a little more quickly.

RcJ

People did crazy things in the name of love. Jack Dalton was no stranger to strong sentiment or a bit of crazy. He'd often been described in his regular mandatory psych evaluations as a man who at times was ruled by his feelings, one who tended to listen to said emotions when he should be following orders. Jack figured that like most people his biggest weakness could also be his greatest advantage. Take for instance, Jack would do anything, and he did mean anything for the people he loved. It was a short list, but the lengths he'd go to in the preservation of any person on it, was staggering, even to him at times. Sometimes his actions weren't exactly wise, nor were they always logical. When it came to love, Jack merely saw things in black and white.

He always liked the way kids thought about love. Sometimes simple. Most often profound. He'd read an article not too long ago in which the writer had interviewed children, asking them to give a definition of real love. The answers ranged from love being when you go out to eat with your best friend and give them most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs to when you tell somebody something bad about yourself and you're scared they won't love you anymore, but then you get surprised because not only do they still love you, but they love you even more. Simple yet profound.

Kids often got what adults had a hard time grasping. Matters of the heart seemed to grow not clearer as one gained wisdom and years, but more convoluted. Love became a thing of games. Smoke and mirrors. It could be used as incentive or twisted for advantage. If a person knew who or what someone loved most, it easily gave them a bit of power, and sometimes a whole lot of leverage. In the wrong hands, love became a very dangerous weapon.

And like with most deadly games, there was always an element of surprise, so the unlucky prey in the crosshairs didn't see what was coming until it was too late. Take for instance when it's a typical Wednesday evening and a guy is leaving his favorite Chinese restaurant, full of Mongolian Beef and having a hell of a fine time giving his best friend grief about the ridiculous fortune he'd just gotten from a damn cookie, and how said best friend was completely oblivious to their waitress who'd been flirting with him, or at least attempting to throughout their entire meal. Then the unthinkable happens.

The bullet came out of nowhere. Or more specifically, as Jack would find out later it came from the barrel of a rare ASVK Russian sniper rifle, atop the roof of the thirteen story building across the street parallel to where he'd parked his Mustang.

At first Jack didn't realize what had happened. He'd reached into his pocket to dig out his keys, passing the takeout boxes he'd promised Bozer to Mac. Only when MacGyver dropped the boxes to the ground did Jack look up, only then did his confused gaze go from Mac's wide blue eyes to the quickly spreading red stain on his partner's shirt.

It wasn't like how they portrayed in the movies. A clean shot from a sniper's rifle didn't always instantly drop the person it struck or send them dramatically careening back against a wall. In actuality a well-placed bullet could slice through clothes, skin and bone silently, with a beautiful precision that although left untold destruction in its wake was almost a work of art.

Jack had put bullets in people, through people, and watched them stand shocked for a moment, even as the projectile pierced their brain or penetrated the pericardium to stop their heart. They sometimes had a look of stunned surprise on their faces, although seeing the expression up close on the face of someone you loved most was a hundred times more horrifying than watching it through the removed distance of a scope.

"Mac!" Jack dropped his keys, reaching for MacGyver, who stumbled slightly, bringing his hand up to touch the bullet wound high on the left side of his chest as if he still wasn't quite convinced of what his body was obviously trying to tell him. He was shot.

The windshield of Jack's Mustang exploded as Jack pushed them both to the ground, covering as much of Mac as possible as the back glass was also obliterated. Somewhere someone screamed. The well-traveled street busy on a perfectly warm full-mooned southern California night was now alight with scurrying, people running in panic, ducking into one of the many stores or restaurants, sadly aware of what was taking place. There was a time when people wouldn't have understood so quickly, when a city street in America was an unthinkable place for an act of terror.

Jack scrambled to get him and his partner on the other side of the car, out of the line of sight, praying whomever was shooting at them, wouldn't hit the gas tank with their next shot.

"Jack, what the hell is going on?" Mac bit out, just as the street light above them was blown out, shattered. Shards rained down over them, blanketing them in glass and blessed darkness.

Jack leaned forward, using his body as a shield. He stayed that way, knowing his gun was useless, counting under his breath. Even if he could pinpoint where the shooter was, distance would have prevented any kind of success in return fire. Besides, a sniper wouldn't stick around, not in downtown L.A. where everyone had a smart phone and police patrols were numerous.

As if to prove Jack right, silence came as quickly as the chaos. The sound of his and Mac's heavy breathing filled the quiet. Then sirens blared in the distance, ensuring if the gunman hadn't hightailed it yet, he would be abandoning his post now. Still, Jack stayed where he was for another long moment until he felt Mac push against him.

"Jack?" His partner's pain-filled voice had him moving, bracing his hand on the side of his car so he could move back enough to meet Mac's gaze. "Are you hit?"

Of course Mac would think to ask, even as he was bleeding onto the pavement. Jack shook his head no, but couldn't quite get words to form just yet. He leaned back on his heels, popping buttons on the over-shirt he was wearing as he stripped it off, leaving him in just the tee shirt underneath. Starting at the bottom Jack tore the material in two.

Mac wasn't wearing a jacket. His blue shirt made locating the source of the blood all to easy. He was sitting on the pavement, his back against the car, one hand pressing against his shoulder. Even in the semi-dark, Jack could see the red liquid seeping from between his best friend's fingers. Jack, gripped Mac's good shoulder and eased him forward. The wet smear on his car shown in the moonlight, proving the bullet had passed straight through. If they were lucky it hadn't struck bone or anything vital as it passed.

Jack placed one of the balled up pieces of his shirt on the exit wound, easing his partner back once more. He then carefully pried Mac's hand away and used the other half of his shirt to push against the point of entry, effectively applying pressure to both wounds.

Mac sucked in a breath, bit his lip as his head banged against the door as he tried to channel the pain the needed measure was causing.

"I'm sorry," Jack said, through clenched teeth. It was funny that the rush of adrenaline he'd usually feel now, the body-born buzz that typically kicked his training into high gear, allowing him to distance himself and do whatever it took to deal with the situation had seemingly failed him. He felt like a fresh-faced kid finding himself in a fox hole surrounded by enemy fire for the first time.

"Are you sure you're not hit?" Mac must have been just as confused by Jack's lack of cocky banter and snarky comeback or maybe he was going into shock.

It was the thought of the latter that had Jack using his free hand to reach for his phone, to punch in the numbers that would connect him to help.

"We have an agent down." He held Mac's gaze as he gave appropriate codes to alert the right people to what exactly had transpired, and then told them their location.

"Calvary's on the way, buddy," Jack told his partner as he put the phone on the ground beside them.

"Good to know." Mac looked as about as stunned as Jack felt. It was one thing to be hurt during a mission, to be sacked by your opponent on a playing field where you were both engaged in battle, quite another to be blindsided when your guard was completely down, in a place in which you, however naïve it may have been, felt relatively safe. "You think the shooter's gone?"

"I think if we were his targets, then yeah," Jack nodded, keeping up the pressure on the wound, bringing his other hand to rest against Mac's throat. The pulse he felt there was fast but strong. "It seems if this was a crazy psycho on a rampage he'd been shooting at someone else besides us and my car."

"Or we're just in the wrong place at the wrong time," Mac mused with a touch of humor. "Run of the mill for us."

"How you doing, Kiddo?" Jack's voice sounded wrong to him, so he forced what he hoped was a convincing grin. "Because my car has seen better days."

"Your dad would be pissed."

Mention of Jack's father had his chest tightening, his loss an all too recent ache, especially in light of what had just transpired. "He's not the only one."

"It's not that bad." Mac closed his eyes, steadying his breath. His fists were balled, pressed against his jean-clad legs.

"You talking about my car or you?" Jack moved his fingers from Mac's pulse, but let his hand come to rest at the back of Mac's neck, offering whatever grounding he could to the younger agent.

Mac opened his eyes, grinned up at him. "Nothing a good body guy can't take care of."

"I don't let just anybody under my hood, Dude." Jack felt a bit of normalcy settle between them at the teasing. He blocked out the way Mac's breath hitched ever so often, the fact the kid hadn't rebuffed Jack being in his personal space. It spoke to how bad he was hurting, or maybe to how shaken. Either way, it pissed Jack off and he longed to get his hands on who had taken the shot and effectively ruined a perfectly good Wednesday night. "Come to think of it, I'm pretty picky about who puts their hands on you, too."

"Really." Mac snorted. "I hadn't noticed."

"You saying I'm not exactly subtle when it comes to your welfare?"

"If you call a bull in a China shop subtle?" Mac raised a brow. "Then sure."

"I think I've mellowed." Jack was thankful the sirens had grown closer. He saw lights flashing just down the street. When he found the shooter, he'd show them exactly what bull in the China shop crazy looked like. On the list of 'people Jack Dalton would do anything for', Angus MacGyver's name was very first.

"Since you knocked out that medic back in the desert? Maybe." Mac's smile twisted into a hurt-filled grimace and he shut his eyes again.

"How about you cut the chatter and leave the reminiscing to me, brother." Jack gave Mac's neck another squeeze and removed his touch when he heard a car breaking behind them, car doors slamming. He reached for his weapon out of habit, but it was only seconds before two police officers made their way towards them, guns drawn. Jack would have rather have had an ambulance but back-up was a beginning.

"Agent Dalton?" The uniform knelt by Jack, glanced to MacGyver.

"That's me." Jack relaxed his stance, nodding to Mac. "He's MacGyver."

"I'm Samuels." The officer touched the radio attached to his Kevlar vest, reporting he'd made contact with Mac and Jack. He gestured to the other man. "My partner, Neely."

"Your boys have any eyes on the shooter?" Jack asked.

"One visual from a witness," Samuels said. "Lone male fleeing the building across the street with a large duffel before blending into the crowd. SWAT's just now on it. We have a chopper in the air, and patrols at every intersection."

"You got any better news about the ETA on an ambulance?"

"Right behind us," Neely replied. "Are you two FBI?"

"Something like that." Jack knew Phoenix sometimes ran through more well-known channels when needing assistance from the locals. It was easier to be vague.

"Do you think you two were the primary targets?" Samuels asked, looking puzzled by the idea that two 'sort of government agents' could garner such attention or gather as much tactical support in the amount of time they had. "We have no other reported casualties in the initial sweep."

"Right now I only care about one casualty." Jack glanced to Mac, willing his temper to hold. He didn't want to speculate on possible scenarios with a uniform that would be excluded from the investigation as soon as other agencies arrived on the scene. "My partner's been shot."

"Rescue personnel are here," Neely told Jack.

Jack's phone rang just as a three man team of paramedics piled into the small space behind Jack's car. He and Mac exchanged glances as one of the men slid in beside Jack, asking him to move back so he could check Mac over.

"Talk to Thornton," Mac said, apparently recognizing Jack's hesitancy in shifting focus. "She needs to know our status."

"I'm coming with you when you transport," Jack told the paramedic as he released the hold he had on the makeshift bandage he'd been pressing to Mac's shoulder. He would allow the trained professionals to take over Mac's care. But like he'd told his partner, it wasn't a position he turned over easily and he wasn't going to be left standing on the corner, counting on a ride from one of the squad cars.

"I'm not sure we'll have room in the rig," the guy's partner was saying.

"Good thing I'm on the small side and don't take up too much room." Jack winked at Mac, who rolled his eyes at the gross understatement. Jack was well over six feet and even if he hadn't weighed in at 190, his personality tended to suck up space. He grabbed his phone before Mac attempted to say as much and stepped away to talk to Patricia in relative private.

"We're in route to the hospital, Patty." Jack hit the button that would connect him with their director and spoke before she had a chance to begin the conversation. In situations like these, when someone had dared attack one of his own, he felt much more comfortable doling out the orders. As reported by reputable CIA psychoanalysts, it was an attempt to exert some kind of control on things that were so obviously out of Jack's control, but what was a guy to do. "Meet us there ASAP."

RcJ

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Guard Your Heart

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Thank you so much for all the very kind reviews! They gave me a big cup of motivation to get this second chapter up. It helped that I had the day off from my actual paying gig. Enjoy!

RcJ

Thornton found Jack pacing in the waiting room outside the ER. It was well after ten, the space mostly vacant.

"How's Mac?" She asked, claiming the seat next to where Jack had stopped mid-stride.

"The doctor says he's lucky." Jack dropped boneless into the chair beside her. "Bullet missed everything vital. It will hurt like a bitch for a while, as you probably recall from your run in with Murdoc's radio controlled rifle. They wanted to keep him overnight, but you know Mac. So we'll go home with some good pain killers and a run of antibiotics as soon as his I.V. finishes."

"That's good news," Patricia didn't look as relieved as she should.

"I take it your report isn't as upbeat?" Jack turned so he was facing her. He glanced around, noting that no one was in earshot. "What did our guys find?"

"Not a lot," Patricia said. "That's the problem. The rooftop where we believe the shooter was positioned is clean. His Bi-pod stand left a print in the dust, as well as his shoes, but they were standard military issue."

"And the ammo?" Jack knew their techs would have tracked down the bullet that had gone through Mac, and the ones that had damaged the Mustang.

"Preliminary ballistics on the rifling is strange."

"In what way?"

"It looks like the bullets were fired from a Russian ASVK rifle. It's still in use by the Russian Army but our tech said it was originally used with ammo produced for heavy machine guns, but found some use as a long-range anti-personnel tool with the introduction of sniper grade ammunition."

"The box magazine holds five rounds," Jack said, his thoughts racing with what Patricia was saying. He had never used an ASVK, but he'd seen one, witnessed what it could do in the hands of the right man, or the wrong one depending on whose team a person found himself.

"That's right," Thorton sounded surprised. She frowned at Jack. "How do you know that?"

"Good guess." Jack cleared his throat, pushing old memories aside, chalking his worry up to paranoia. "The shooter took four successive shots, counting the one at Mac."

"That would leave one bullet unaccounted for," Thornton said, thoughtfully. "Doesn't it seem strange that a sniper would choose such a weapon when there are much more advanced rifles now?"

"Depends on the shooter," Jack pinched at the bridge of his nose, feeling the first twinges of the massive headache he could feel building momentum. "Guns are like cars. They become more than just a tool. We get attached."

"So you think this could be someone with ties to Russia?"

"I didn't say that," Jack toyed with the bracelet on his arm. "Soldiers can get their hands on all kinds of weaponry."

"Well whoever this sentimental shooter is, there is absolutely no chatter about a hit on you or Mac," Thornton continued. "I didn't call Riley back from her visit to Canada, but I did have a few of our other analysts run checks on Murdoc and El Noche."

Jack had asked Thornton not to tell Riley about the incident just yet after the ER assured him Mac would be fine. He'd made the same choice with Bozer, instead arranging a delivery from the restaurant to Mac's place with the promised Chinese. Jack had sent a text telling Bozer to expect dinner, and that they'd gotten caught up in something with work. He would explain when they made it home later. There was no reason to stir everyone up when there was little or no information to go on. He had hoped Patricia would have had some leads to offer as absolution for his lack of forthcoming.

"And?"

"And there has been no communications from either of them to the outside that would suggest they were putting out feelers to place a contract out on Mac. My CIA contacts have heard no intel either, and you know that's not typical that no one in the community has heard even a peep."

Jack sighed, scrubbing a hand over his hair. "It doesn't make sense."

"Do you have any thoughts on this? It is your line of expertise."

"I wasn't an assassin, Patty." Technically, Thornton could have refuted Jack's claim and been in the right. Jack might not have accepted money to murder people, but he did eliminate targets when ordered to do so, and in the line of protecting his own.

"I didn't mean it that way, only that you have a unique perspective."

"I don't' think the shooter wanted Mac dead." Jack had too much time alone in the waiting room to think about the reason Mac was going to be recovering from a through and through bullet wound and had not ended up on a slab in the morgue. He'd like to credit luck, or sloppy work on the shooter's part, but neither of those things felt right. Jack had learned through the years to listen to his gut instincts, especially where the job was concerned. "I think if this had been a simple contract hit we'd be having a very different conversation."

"I know you well enough to know there wouldn't have been any conversation, Jack." Thornton levelled her dark gaze on Jack. "I also know that your first priority is Mac's safety. It's a common interest we share although sometimes I'm not sure you believe that."

"What are you getting at, Patty?"

"I'm just saying that if you have any information on this situation it would be imperative you share it with me." Patricia glanced to the silver doors separating them from Mac. "You're always telling him he's not allowed to do anything stupid on his own. I hope you would take your own advice."

"The only thing I'm planning on doing is picking up Mac's prescriptions and taking him home, where I plan to sit on him so that he gets the rest the doctor prescribed."

"Then I'll continue working with our liaisons to see if I can turn any leads. Until then, I'm pulling the team out of rotation." Thornton stood. "I know Mac will refuse a safe house, but I'm placing a unit at his and Bozer's as well as sending one to Riley's mother's place."

"That can't hurt," Jack conceded. "I'll check back with you in the morning."

"You'll be staying close to Mac then?"

"You know I will." Jack stood, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure nothing else like this happens."

Patricia didn't respond, but Jack recognized the frown that shifted her already solemn countenance ever so slightly. She was trying to get into his head, a trait that Jack found both irritating and somehow endearing. The woman could be an enigma, but as she had pointed out earlier, Jack wasn't completely sure whose side she was always on. Still, he'd always considered himself loyal to her and Phoenix. No matter what his psychological profile said, Jack didn't take disobeying orders lightly. He was a good soldier in all regards, so breaking ranks was not something he considered often, not without damn good reason.

In the name of protocol, he'd been completely forthright when he'd told Patricia he didn't have any more information than what she did on the shooter, after all a particular brand of gun meant nothing really, especially when the only man Jack knew that used that certain gun was long dead. Jack also had every intention of doing exactly what he'd told her he was going to do, sit tight with Mac. That was the plan right up to the point that Bozer gave him the package.

They'd made it back to Mac's just after eleven, but explaining the night's events to Bozer had taken a better part of an hour. To say the newly minted team member had been displeased with Jack sitting on all the details of what had transpired was a gross understatement. No one did dramatic monologue quite like Bozer.

On any other night it might have been entertaining, but as it was Mac was practically out on his feet and Jack's teasing of a headache had progressed to almost full on migraine. Still, he'd listened, mostly. When Bozer had shifted from flogging Jack to mother-henning Mac, Jack had made his escape. He'd headed to the kitchen hoping for a beer and possibly some left over Chinese when Bozer appeared from the living room.

"Mac's out cold."

"That doesn't surprise me considering the doctor prescribed the really good stuff." Jack pulled two beers from the icebox, suddenly not up for more Chinese. "And of course there was the interrogation session he had to endure."

"You are not making me feel guilty." Bozer took the beer Jack offered him. "If someone had called me from the hospital when they should have we could have gotten the whole situation squared away hours ago."

Jack twisted off the cap of his beer and leaned against the counter opposite Bozer, praying they weren't going down that particular rabbit trail again. "Now, Boze, when you took on this gig I explained the whole concept of 'need to know'."

Boze frowned. "I think I might need to know when one of you gets shot."

"It wasn't life threatening." Jack had to remind himself of that fact countless times as he watched Mac gingerly move around the house, looking incredibly young in the old Cowboys shirt Jack had dug out of his gym bag, the one he'd had the foresight to grab out of his car before they'd headed to the hospital. The sling wasn't helping matters, a stark reminder of Jack's failure.

"Isn't any bullet wound life-threatening? I mean death is pretty much a sniper's purpose, right? A person fires a gun with every intention of doing harm."

"I guess if you want to get all technical." Jack was of the opinion that a gun could be fired with every intention of defending what you valued most, but Bozer had a point.

"Then how about we have a hard and fast rule that if somebody on the team gets shot it is definitely a need to know situation, even if other members of said team are off duty or on vacation."

"You told Riley, didn't you?" Jack took another drink of his beer, hoping like hell their computer guru didn't rush back home.

"It's not good to have secrets in a new relationship, Jack." Bozer pointed his beer at Jack. "It's not good to have secrets in any relationship."

"You're not exactly in a relationship with Riley."

"Which is why I didn't exactly tell her what was going on," Bozer uncapped his beer and took a sip. "But when she does find out, know I will be relating that you are the one who gave the gag order and I wanted to tell her. Considering she used that same argument when I found out what you guys really did at the think tank, I don't think she'll be upset with me."

"You'd throw me under the bus, just like that?" Jack feigned a hurt look. "After I bought your favorite dinner?"

"If you want to get all technical, _I_ paid for the dinner, but I do appreciate the delivery. Speaking of which," Bozer set his beer down and turned to one of the drawers on the island. "In all the excitement of you and Mac showing up with your little surprise, I forgot to give you this."

Jack frowned at the manila envelope Bozer had retrieved and now held out to him. "The delivery guy said you left this at the restaurant when you and Mac were there. I was thinking it might have been your credit card since you didn't spring for the bill when you ordered after you promised me a meal, but then I remembered what a cheap skate you are."

"I promised you leftovers," Jack reminded his friend. He didn't remember leaving anything behind on the table. For an instant he thought about the waitress, how she'd flirted with Mac, but Jack Dalton was written on the outside in Sharpie. She could have mixed them up. "I don't remember telling her my last name."

"Maybe they got it from your card."

"Mac paid."

Bozer snorted, reclaiming his beer. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Jack put down his drink and came to stand next to Bozer. He opened the envelope and dumped its contents on the island. A bullet clinked across the countertop. Not just any bullet, but a 338 Lapua Magnum, sniper grade. A sheet of white paper fluttered out also, landing face down on the island.

"What the hell?" Bozer frowned, reaching for the bullet. 'You left ammo at the table? That's a poor tip, even for you."

"Wait!" Jack caught his wrist. "Don't touch it."

Bozer lifted his hand. "Admittedly I'm no expert, but bullets don't usually go off by themselves."

"It could have prints." Jack doubted it. Not unless the shooter wanted them to know who he was.

Bozer's eyes widened. "You think this is from the guy who shot Mac?"

Jack turned to another drawer, digging until he found what he was looking for. He pulled the plastic glove on, turning the paper over. There was a small drawing, with a sentence written in bold black letters underneath, a signature that shouldn't have been possible this side of Hell.

Jack's chest tightened. His mouth went dry and Jack was certain Bozer could probably hear his heart at the rate it was now galloping against his sternum.

"Jack?"Bozer looked over his shoulder. "What's it say?"

Jack stripped off the glove, tossing it toward the trash. He picked up the paper and shoved it in his pocket, along with the bullet.

"What about the prints?" Bozer asked, his face showing his confusion at Jack's complete turn-around.

"False alarm. It's not what I thought," Jack looked up, forced a half smile. "Just an inside joke."

"You and the delivery man have a repartee now, because it wasn't even our usual guy who brought the food."

Jack turned on Bozer. "What did he look like?"

"About your age I guess. He was wearing a ball cap, blue jean jacket."

"Did you notice anything about his hands?" Jack asked.

"His hands?" Bozer shrugged. "Now that you mention it, he might have been wearing gloves. But he was on a motorcycle so I didn't think too much about it."

A bike would have explained the quick getaway, how the shooter could have evaded the main intersections the LAPD had blocked off.

"Jack are you sure you're alright. You don't look so good?"

"I'm just tired, Dude." Jack gave a half chuckle, brushing Bozer's concern aside. "It's been a hell of night, you know."

"You can say that again." Bozer shook his head. "So much for you and Mac taking a few days off."

"Recuperating from a bullet wound wasn't exactly the vacation Mac had in mind." Jack glanced towards the living room. "So much for hitting the beach for some down time."

Bozer met Jack's gaze, his genuine worry compounding Jack's guilt. "You know this wasn't your fault, right? I mean, I get that you hold yourself responsible for Mac's well-being when you guys are in the field, but you couldn't predict some crazy psycho coming out of the woodwork to take a potshot at our boy on home turf."

Jack nodded, feeling the weight of Bozer's words like an anvil. "I know."

"How about I break out some blankets for the old futon in the spare room so you can crash for a while?" Bozer gestured to the living room. "Mac's going to be out for the rest of the night anyway. _Or_ I'm always up for a binge session of The Walking Dead. I've got the last few episodes on DVR."

"Can I get a rain check on the gratuitous zombie viewing? Your running commentary and expert analysis is enough to make a guy's head explode on a good day. Besides, some sleep actually sounds good." Jack glanced to the clock, noting it was well after midnight. "I'll check on Mac and then head on back."

"Sounds like a plan." Bozer reached for his beer, but Jack took it.

"I'll clean up here and check the doors. You go on and turn in," Jack forced a smile. "After all, I owe you."

"I guess we both do need to be in top form if we're going to gang up on Mac to follow doctor's orders." Bozer flashed Jack one of his wide grins in return. " _If_ I have forgiven you in the morning I might even make my famous French toast."

"Then I'll pray for absolution, brother." Jack knew slighting Bozer on the intel was going to be only the beginning of his sins, but at this point he would play the hand that had been dealt him. "I love your French toast."

Once Bozer left, Jack took the paper from his pocket, reading the cryptic words once more. He knew they wouldn't have changed, but he was hoping he might have misunderstood. Maybe his tired mind was playing tricks on him, causing him to see monsters where there was other more reasonable explanations.

To anyone else the message might have been unclear, the cartoonish drawing of a stick of dynamite bizarre even. But Jack understood it all too well. Their meaning was a reminder of a past he'd hoped to bury, ghosts he'd wanted to let go. They were also a very real threat to the present he would go to any length to protect. Even if those actions proved illogical and somewhat crazy.

Folding the paper once more, Jack slipped it back into his pocket as he made his way quietly into the living room. Mac was asleep, curled on the couch with his arm propped on a pillow in front of him, sling abandoned to the coffee table. The television was muted, the glow of the screen illuminating Mac's face, which was peaceful thanks to the drugs.

Jack grabbed a throw from the back of the sofa as he came around. He knelt in front of the couch, spreading the blanket carefully over Mac.

"I know you won't understand this, but I have to go. It's the only way I can make sure you're safe, that Bozer and Riley are safe." Jack kept his voice low, although he was certain Mac wouldn't stir for at least a few hours, possibly not until morning. It would give Jack the time necessary to gather what he needed to disappear. The thought of going it alone for the first time in five years had Jack reaching out a hand, resting it briefly against Mac's forehead. "Just so you know, kiddo, you're the guy I'd give all my fries to and not ask for any of yours in return. I just hope to hell when you've found out what I've done, you can still say the same in return."

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Guard Your Heart

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Thank you so much for all the encouraging reviews. You guys are awesome. I hope this extra long chapter makes up for being a little late on posting. Please see additional author notes at the end.

RcJ

Mac awoke slowly to the sounds of Bozer singing and the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon. He blinked, orienting himself to the familiar surroundings of his living room. He was used to waking up in air planes, suites that Phoenix had established in locales all over the globe, but there was something about being home that Mac recognized immediately, even when his brain was fuzzy and sluggish from what he expected was an opiate hangover. There was a reason he hated painkillers.

Pushing himself carefully into a sitting position Mac took note of several things at once. His mouth felt like a family of cotton balls had gone there to die, there was a dull ache behind his eyes, and his left shoulder throbbed to the beat of his heart, which was racing. It took a moment to reconcile his current state to events of the previous day, and to recall exactly why he was sleeping on the couch instead of in his much more comfortable bed. With the recollection he'd been shot by a sniper came the motivation to get up, to see if Thornton had checked in with Jack through the night. Mac also wanted some water and possibly a huge plate of Bozer's famous French toast which could only account for the familiar tantalizing smells coming from the kitchen, but first he needed to visit the bathroom.

"Hey." Mac said to Bozer as he carefully shuffled to the refrigerator for the water he hoped would take the bad taste out of his mouth, seeing as how the quick brushing he gave his teeth hadn't helped much. Changing clothes and putting shoes on had proven a difficult enough task as other parts of his body besides his wounded left shoulder were making themselves known. Jack had a hell of a tackle and the pavement had been unforgiving. Mac's right side was a nice array of purples and red to prove it.

"I knew the smell of my heavenly ambrosia would wake the slumbering giants eventually." Bozer gestured to the many pans on the stove in front of him.

"Actually it was your singing." Mac made sure to stand up straight and at least attempt a look of complete ease as he could feel Bozer's appraising gaze. He resisted the urge to reach up and self-consciously touch the dark bruise on his cheek from where his face had smacked the concrete. "It's almost as bad as Jack's."

"Speaking of bad, you look much worse than that. Somewhere between awful and 'should have definitely stayed at the hospital for overnight observation'."

"Sorry if I didn't get my usual beauty sleep." Mac grabbed a bottle of water and gingerly closed the door with his foot as he made it to one of the bar stools by the island. "Our couch leaves a lot to be desired as a bed."

"I'm sure being shot had nothing to do with why you're moving around like your seventy year old grandfather."

"I was shot?" Mac opened the water and took a long drink. He smirked at Bozer. "I thought that was all a bad dream."

"Nightmare is more like it." Bozer pointed his spatula at Mac. "You should be wearing your sling by the way."

"The sling was a suggestion." Mac eased himself onto one of the stools so as not to jostle his shoulder, but couldn't quite help the wince when his efforts failed.

Bozer shook his head, mumbling something under his breath about stubborn pig headed Neanderthals as he sat a plate stacked high with thick pieces of golden French toast on the island in front of Mac. "You give a whole new meaning to doctor's orders. You know that, right?"

"It's all about perspective." Mac put down his bottle of water to reach for a piece of the grilled perfection, relieved Bozer must have forgiven him for any perceived transgressions from the day before if he had willingly made breakfast. Bozer quickly slid the plate out of Mac's reach. "Hey."

"That's not for you." Bozer inched the plate until it was in front of the other stool. "It's for Jack."

Mac frowned; tempted to point out that it was in fact Jack who had chosen not to tell Bozer Mac had been shot, although Mac had totally applauded his partner's decision to wait until Bozer could see for himself that Mac was fine. He'd already given his roommate one scare since he started at Phoenix and didn't want to add any more stress than absolutely necessary.

"He doesn't like cinnamon," Bozer explained. "Yours is coming up."

"Speaking of Mr. Bland..." Mac sneaked a pinch of the bread as soon as Bozer's back was turned. "Where is Jack?"

"He crashed in the spare room last night," Bozer said pulling two more plates from the cabinet above the stove. "I don't think he's up yet."

"That's weird." Mac quickly swallowed the piece of bread he'd stolen whole before Bozer turned around. He glanced towards the hallway expecting to see his partner suddenly appear like Mac's dog Archimedes used to do when Mac would fill his bowl with kibble. "Jack's usually up with the sun and if nothing else, as you said the smell of food or at least the promise of coffee should have had him in here by now."

"He was pretty shaken up last night." Bozer returned with Mac's breakfast, placing it on the island before returning to grab his own plate and the Maple syrup. "I think he blamed himself for what happened."

"That sounds about right." Mac had sensed the same thing when he'd finally been released from the hospital and Jack hadn't spoken more than a handful of words on their way home. Usually, Mac had to feign sleep to get his partner to cut the chatter, and sometimes that didn't work, but he'd found himself so desperate to initiate conversation that he even told Jack about the date he'd had the weekend before. Even the promise of Mac spilling intimate details hadn't brought the older agent out of his funk.

"You want me to go wake him?" Bozer offered.

"No, I'll go." Mac couldn't explain his sudden feeling of unease, but it was strong enough motivation to get him moving again. He stood up before his roommate could protest and started for the back bedroom which served mostly as storage for their bikes, surfboards and Mac's camping gear. Jack was really the only one to use it as sleeping quarters, and now after spending a whole night on the sofa Mac understood why. Even his ancient futon from college had to be more comfortable.

"Jack?" He knocked lightly on the door, opening it a little when he got no response. The room boasted two large windows which although covered by blinds bathed the room in a flood of early morning color. Mac's gaze went straight to the futon, where instead of a sleeping Jack he found a neatly folded stack of blankets and a pillow. There were no other signs his partner had ever been in the room. No shoes discarded randomly, no shirt or pants strewn across the floor.

"Jack!" Even as Mac turned and started for the guest bathroom he knew he'd find it empty too. Adrenaline had him overlooking the sore state of his body, moving quickly as he shoved open the door and looked around despite telling himself he was wasting time. No damp towels barely hanging onto the edge of the hamper. No toothpaste residue left in the sink. The shower was completely dry. "Damn it."

Bozer met him halfway down the hallway. "What's wrong?"

"Jack's gone." Saying the words out loud cast a spell. A sort of foreshadowing settled around them like fog. It seemed to seep through Mac's clothes, permeating layers of skin with a dark chill. It had Mac bringing his hand to his heart, pressing against a pain that had nothing to do with the precariously close proximity of the bullet wound.

"What do you mean he's gone?"

"I mean he's not here, Bozer! Did you actually see him go to bed?"

"No, he said he was going to straighten up the kitchen, which he did not do by the way, and then check on you. I turned in."

Mac ran a hand through his hair, wincing when the move pulled at all too fresh stitches. "The futon wasn't slept on. He must have left last night."

"Just take it easy." Bozer held up a placating hand and Mac recognized his tone as his attempt to be the voice of reason. "You know Jack. He might have crashed in the recliner so he could keep an eye on you last night. Maybe he woke up before me and went out for some coffee. He's the only person I know who can strip a car engine and reassemble it but can't work a Keurig."

"Jack just tells you he can't work the Keurig so you'll make his coffee for him." Mac shook his head, moving past Bozer. He went straight for the living room where he had last seen his phone. "If Thornton called, he might not wake me but he'd leave a message, or a note."

Mac grabbed his phone from the coffee table, gritting his teeth when there were no new calls and no messages. He punched the button that would connect him to his partner's phone only to have it go directly to the recording telling him Jack had still not set up his voice mail greeting.

"Damn it." Jack never turned his phone off; hence Jack's brilliantly flawed reasoning behind not bothering to set up a message system that would never be used. Mac looked to Bozer who'd just come back in from checking the deck. "He didn't leave me any kind of message."

"I'll look in the kitchen, in case I missed something this morning."

Mac scrolled through his inbox as Bozer scanned cabinets and the refrigerator magnets that held lists and reminders. When Mac found there were no new emails from Jack or Thornton, he checked Twitter for any of the codes he and Jack sometimes used for shorthand; there was no communication there either. He looked around the coffee table, moving the sling he should have been wearing and checking under a pile of running and car magazines. There was nothing. Bozer returned to the living room empty handed as well. .

"Nothing in the kitchen," he told Mac with a shake of his head.

"He wouldn't have just left." Mac gripped his phone, the dark foreboding from earlier settling in his gut with a punch of an iron fist. He must have looked as blindsided and uncertain as he felt because Bozer seemed to think it necessary to reassure him.

"Jack's not going to just up and jump ship, Mac. I'm sure there's some kind of reasonable explanation." Bozer propped his hands on his hips scanning the room as if they had somehow merely overlooked the obvious. "Someone might have taken him. Maybe the guy who shot at you."

Mac frowned, appreciating that his friend was willing to offer up even the lamest of scenarios to spare Mac any momentary flare up of his recurring abandonment issues. "Have you seen Jack in hand to hand, Boze? No one's going to kidnap him. At least not without one hell of a fight, which means we would have heard something."

"It could have been Ninjas."

Mac wanted to smile at the suggestion, knowing that was his oldest friend's intention. It was one of the possible scenarios he'd given when Mac's dad had disappeared. Instead Mac moved back into the kitchen, hoping to gain some perspective. "You said Jack was upset last night? Did he talk to Thornton or anyone else after I passed out?"

"No one called. It was just me and him. We had a beer." Bozer shook his head. "He seemed distracted, like something was bothering him, I mean more than usual when you're hurt. I tried to make sure he knew that what happened wasn't his fault. He brushed it off, even turned down The Walking Dead, and you know how my man Jack feels about Daryl."

"I'm going to call Thornton." Mac brought up the recent calls on his phone history. He'd spoken briefly to their boss after leaving the hospital, assuring her he was okay and that he was willing to accept her offer of the extra security at his place. It wasn't as if she needed his permission, but Mac appreciated that she had at least given the illusion that he had some say in the matter this time after her strong handed maneuvers with the whole Murdoc fiasco. "I'll have her ping Jack's phone, and talk with the team I know she has sitting on the house. They will had to have seen when Jack left…"

"There was the package…" Bozer interrupted Mac's train of thought with a snap of his fingers.

"Package?" Mac disconnected the call before the first ring. He lowered the phone, his gaze going to Bozer once more. "You didn't say anything about a package."

"I almost forgot about it again," Bozer explained. "I mean I _did_ forget about it when you and Jack first came in last night and I saw that you were hurt, but when Jack and I were talking I remembered that the guy who delivered my Chinese from Trey Yuen had left a package for Jack."

"What was it?"

"It was a manila envelope." Bozer went to the trash, picking up an empty egg carton and pushing a discarded butter wrapper aside to retrieve the parcel with Jack's name written carefully in black marker. He offered it to Mac. "The guy said it was something Jack left at the restaurant when you all ate there."

"We didn't forget anything at Trey Yuen. I went back to the table to leave the tip." Mac took the envelope, turned it over and looked inside. "The waitress left me her phone number on a napkin, but I tossed it."

"When Jack opened it there was a piece of paper and a bullet," Bozer explained. "Jack was all freaked for a minute and told me not to touch anything, but after he read the note, he said it was just an inside joke between him and the delivery guy, which I thought was strange because the delivery guy wasn't even our regular dude, Zeke."

"What did the guy look like?"

"He was maybe in his forties, white. He had a ball cap pulled low, so I'm not sure about his eye color. Jack asked about his hands, specifically. I told him he was wearing leather gloves."

"You said there was a bullet?" Mac recalled Thornton mentioning that the gun they believed shot him had a five round clip and there had only been four shots taken, one of them hitting him. "What kind?"

"Hell if I know, Mac." Bozer flailed his arms dramatically. "I haven't had a ballistics class yet, and no one has even mentioned me going to the firing range, although I have asked repeatedly when that's happening."

Mac sighed. "Was it slimmer, longer than say the 9mm blanks I got for you when we were filming that big shootout scene?"

"It was more pointed, longer I guess."

"What about the note?" Mac's mind was racing with possibilities. If the shooter reached out to Jack with some kind of threat it could account for his partner's sudden disappearance. Jack didn't typically go Lone Wolf, not since he and Mac had started working together on a permanent basis, but Mac could imagine a few things that might precipitate such a tactical move. None of them would warrant Jack's leaving without so much a word, at least not in Mac's mind, but he could imagine Jack feeling differently. Especially if he thought what he was doing would protect someone he loved.

"I didn't get a good look at it. After Jack read it, he stuffed it in his pocket along with the bullet." Bozer bit his bottom lip, the way he always did when he was trying to recall something. "There were a few lines of writing which I didn't catch, but I did notice the drawing at the bottom of the page and maybe a signature right after."

"Think, Bozer, this is really important."

"The drawing wasn't skilled or really detailed, more like a cartoon caricature of dynamite, the kind you might see on Bugs Bunny when they have the whole TNT explosion. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Mac nodded. "And the signature?"

"It was just an initial and a last name, A. Nobel?"

Mac frowned, an obscure fact niggling at the back of his brain. "Alfred Nobel?"

Bozer's brow furrowed. "The Peace Prize guy?"

"The Nobel Peace Prizes came later, an afterthought on his part as a way to put a positive spin on his legacy. First and foremost, Nobel was a brilliant chemist, engineer and inventor. He has hundreds of things credited to his name; in fact, he holds the patent for no other than dynamite. "

"You know all this how?" Bozer shook his head.

"Did you miss what I said about him being the father of dynamite, Boze? Alfred Nobel was also the first man to figure out a way to stabilize Nitro. He's kind of a big deal in the world of things that go bang, which just happens to be my area of expertise." Mac knew he tended to get a little snarky when he was frustrated with a situation, when other people's minds didn't work quite as quickly or in the same non-traditional trajectory as his tended to. Jack would usually get right back with him, but Bozer frowned on the sarcasm. As if he'd read Mac's mind, Bozer folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his gaze, give Mac a look of disappointment.

"Okay, Mr. Trivia, so I can see you're all fan boy over this Alfred Nobel, but explain to me why he's sending love letters to Jack and how this all ties into what happened to you yesterday?"

"Nobel's not sending letters to anyone, Boze. He's been dead over a hundred years."

"Then maybe it's a coincidence?" Bozer offered half-heartedly. "Maybe the A doesn't stand for Alfred."

"With the drawing of the dynamite, I don't think it's a coincidence." Mac shook his head. In fact, his gut was telling him he was on the right path. "Alfred Nobel could be an agent codename. Maybe even an Ops name. "

"You give missions their own codenames?" Bozer's brow lifted. When Mac nodded, the newest member of Phoenix rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Cool. Am I going to get a secret spy name? Because I have some ideas."

"At The Foundation we mostly use code for the jobs we're running, but its common practice in other agencies like the CIA and in the military to have aliases."

"Did you have a codename in the Army?" Bozer asked.

"Not really," Mac hedged. He had dealt with the nickname Hollywood while in boot camp, but almost preferred it to the moniker Jack's teammates of Delta had given him. "Can we get back to the topic on hand, please?"

"Fine," Bozer sighed. "I'll just ask Jack when we find him."

"You'll have to stand in line," Mac said, grabbing Bozer's keys from the counter and tossing them to his roommate. He folded up the envelope and slid it into his pocket. He doubted there was any trace evidence sans their DNA and some butter stains but he'd let their techs have a go at it just the same. "I have some questions of my own for Jack."

"Where are we going?" Bozer asked, catching the keys and grabbing him and Mac a piece of the French toast from their abandoned plates.

"We're going to Phoenix. I'll call Thornton in the car."

Mac had hoped in the time it had taken them to creep through the early morning LA traffic, Thornton might have had better luck than Riley, who he had also called from the car. Without giving their hacker all the details Mac had asked her to try and get a lock on Jack's phone. The fact Riley had no luck and also came up with nothing on a money trail didn't completely quash his optimism. However one look at their director's face when he and Bozer entered the conference room after their initial stop at the lab told Mac their resources were proving no match for Jack's skill.

"He's gone dark." Thornton tapped the windowed room, screening them from any and all curious onlookers. "The last place I have a definite lock on his location is near your house at 12:48 A.M. this morning when he spoke with the two man team I put on your and Bozer's place. They logged his conversation, which consisted of Jack graciously bringing them two cups of coffee and letting them know he was headed home for a quick change of clothes."

"Damn," Bozer said. "Jack does know how to use the Keurig."

Mac frowned at his roommate, before turning to Thornton. "Jack keeps a dash bag at my place with everything he needs."

"Obviously it was a flimsy reuse, albeit one that worked, because Jack didn't want them reporting his movement to me." Thornton folded her arms over her chest. "I had given them strict orders to inform me of any and all activity coming in or out from your location."

"You suspected Jack might pull something like this?" Mac asked, watching his boss very carefully. If she knew something about his partner's disappearance and was withholding it from him he would not let it slide like the other precarious indiscretions they had overcome in the past. Mac didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when she seemed genuinely perplexed and a touch angry.

"I felt he was holding something back from me at the hospital when I gave him the ballistics findings. I told him as much but Jack denied knowing anything." Thornton's mouth twisted into a half smirk. "Which is why I specifically put two of my newer recruits with no 'good ol' buddy' connection to Jack on your place."

"Then why didn't they report to you when he didn't return?" Bozer asked.

"That's what the coffee was for," Mac answered for Thornton. "Jack drugged them."

"They didn't wake up from their nice nap until their shift replacements came at 8, right after you called me." Thornton turned to the computer screen pulling up a file. "Which tells us one thing for certain. Jack knows who shot you and is either chasing said person or leading said person away from you."

"And how do we know that?" Bozer asked. "Because our boy Jack is turning out to be a complete man of mystery to me."

"He left us unprotected," Mac replied. "First by abandoning his position, and second by taking out the watch team. He wouldn't have done either if he thought someone might still be coming for us. Jack would never risk our team."

"So you think that someone is blackmailing Jack or threatening him?" Bozer asked Thornton, seeming to still be having a hard time completely following her line thinking.

"I believe if someone wanted to gain leverage on Jack Dalton, or compromise him in any fashion, using MacGyver would be the quickest and most successful avenue through which to do it."

"Jack isn't compromised." Mac didn't like the idea of being used as a tool or as a threat, especially to or against the people he loved. He understood in the world of espionage, nothing or no one was completely off limits when it came to having the upper hand. He and Jack lived by a different code than most agents. Mac wasn't completely convinced Thornton followed the law of loyalty as closely as they did, but her past actions had proved she wasn't so quick to throw one of their team to the wolves as some in her position might have been. "We don't know this has anything to do with Phoenix."

"I tend to agree with you," Thornton said, turning to the computer screen where she had pulled up several images. "I found this after our conversation on the phone when I did a key search of all the words you suggested."

Mac scanned the document, recognizing the pages of a missions file, albeit most of it blacked out. "It looks like a review of a DA operation between DEVGRU and 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta. Apparently a high value target extraction."

"Some of us have not had Spy Speak 101 yet, guys," Bozer waved his hand. "So could we stick to laymen's terms, please?"

"It's a brief concerning a Direct Action," Mac translated in simpler terms. "A DA is a strike or small-scale offensive in hostile or politically sensitive area. This one in particular seems to be a mission that SEAL Team 6 and Delta worked together to rescue a prisoner. Collaborations of this kind don't happen a lot but both teams are under the control of the Joint Special Operations Command so it's possible."

"And how did you get all that from those pages?" Bozer asked, incredulously. "Because I'm just seeing a whole lot of inked out information. Where the hell is Wiki Leaks and Edward Snowden when you need them?"

"You just need to know where to look." Patricia ignored Bozer's attempt at humor, pointing out one line in the middle of the wash of black. "For instance, this is the Operation's name."

"Operation Mod," Bozer read.

"Not Mod," Mac stepped closer to the screen, his heart kicking up a notch. He pulled his left arm closer to his chest, trying to ignore the intensified ache. "It's initials, an acronym. M.O.D."

"And let me guess?" Bozer lifted a brow at Mac. "You know what it stands for?"

"I do." Mac nodded at Bozer. "Because my good friend Alfred Nobel told us. M.O.D. stands for the Merchant of Death."

"Did I miss that in your earlier history lesson because I have been known to tune you out when you start elaborating like some weird voice over?"

Mac sighed. "I told you Nobel started the whole peace prize as an attempt to clean up his image. The reason he needed the good PR in the first place was because a reporter had named him The Merchant of Death in an accidental posting of his extremely premature obituary."

"When I found this connection, I reached out to a contact at Joint Special Operations Command, a former friend from the CIA," Thornton continued. "He wouldn't officially confirm or deny that Jack Dalton was ever on mission codenamed Merchant of Death, but he did send me another page of the briefing, one that had a little less ink."

Another page appeared on the screen and a couple of names stood out to Mac. "Tombstone."

"Like the movie," Bozer said, then flashed a grin at Mac. "That's Jack, isn't it?"

Mac nodded. "His handle from DELTA."

"I get it," Bozer continued. "Because of the whole Wyatt Earp middle name and how Jack's dad loved all things cowboy."

Mac shared a look with Thornton. Bozer was still very naïve about their world. "Jack would like your idea, Boze, but he didn't pick the name. A moniker is typically ascribed by a commander, maybe your peers. It usually describes an operator's particular skill set. It alludes to a specialty you bring to the team."

"Oh." Bozer met Mac's gaze. "So not so much about Tombstone, the old western town."

"Not so much," Thornton said brusquely. She pointed to another name a few lines down. "Did you notice this one, Mac?"

"The Hammer," Mac nodded. "Jack's C.O. was there, too."

"I put a call into the DOD, but General Hammond is a hard man to reach," Thornton said. "It's not likely he would talk to me about the mission or Jack even if he had showed the courtesy to accept my call."

"He'll talk to me." Jack might have felt he owed Perseus Hammond because the man was initially responsible for Jack and Mac's partnership in Afghanistan, but Hammond owed MacGyver a debt as well. "Call the DOD back. Tell General Hammond that The Shepherd needs his help. He's lost one of his sheep."

RcJ

Jack was convinced that if people did indeed do crazy things for love, they would also do heinous, despicable things out of hate. Jack might have loved fiercely, but he had never been one to dislike passionately. Of course there were things that pushed his buttons, and people he didn't care for, but it wasn't in his nature, not typically, to wish someone harm. Instead, Jack hated in generalities.

For instance, he hated the Pittsburg Steelers. What die hard Cowboys fan didn't'. He hated The Red Sox. Jack hated Lima beans and brussel sprouts. Who could blame him? Much to his former girlfriend Sarah's dismay, he hated freaking Paris with all its obscure little cafés and labyrinth designed cobblestone streets. Anyone who had ever been forced to chase a suspect through good old 'Gay Parie' would agree with him.

Jack hated insidious diseases, like the cancer that had ravaged his father from the inside out and robbed them both of precious years. He hated pedophiles and cowardly mass murderers who hid behind guns they had no business ever getting their hands on. Jack hated traitors.

He hated the piss poor choices people made seemingly without any concern for the damage that might be left in the wake of their selfishness. This hatred extended to the decision Mac's father made to leave his twelve year old kid to run off and do God knows what leaving his son with doubts about his worth and value. Jack especially hated that he had been forced to make a very similar move, one that just might stir up his best friend's insecurities and cause Mac to doubt the bond Jack had spent years proving was true and trustworthy.

The weight of what Jack had been forced to do because although he wasn't one to feed on hatred, someone who knew him all too well, was indeed just the type to thrive on such emotion was so great it inspired a rare bout of self- recrimination and self-loathing. Jack was provoked to even break his hard and fast one drink rule while on duty.

He lifted a hand and motioned the surly bartender for another beer as he waited in the dark and dank drinking establishment in Encinitas. Jack had almost chosen Bar Leucadian for his meet up. It was his kind of place, the quintessential dive bar with the great stories of local legends and horrible beer on tap, but he and Mac had discovered it on a trip down the coast a few years back and even though Jack knew Mac had no reason to think his partner would have headed to San Diego, Jack still refrained from going anywhere remotely familiar. So, he'd let his contact pick the place and considering the rumors he'd heard about the man he was to be meeting he hadn't been all that surprised upon arriving to find the underbelly of Encinitas. He just hoped he didn't have to wait long.

Jack had no sooner slapped down the money for his second drink when an older guy in an ancient bomber jacket and aviator sunglasses atop his head of wild silver hair took the empty seat beside him. He picked up the piece of tropical fruit Jack had been instructed to bring by their mutual contact like Jack was on some sort of on-line date and needed to be easily identified among the other single ladies.

"You must be Dalton, I presume."

"Frank Bama?" The guy reminded him of the old surfer crew that sometime hung around near Cardiff Reef, the ones who'd spent far too many years in the sun and probably more than their fair share of time in a haze of some illegal substance or another. Jack pointed to the fruit. "I would have brought something a little more traditional, like a red rose but our mutual friend said you, like most marauding pirates suffered from scurvy."

"Ha!" The man laughed, placing the tangerine once more on the bar. "That old bastard Funky Joe White has been giving me a hard time about my best girl's name for longer than you've been alive, Kid."

Jack wasn't used to being on the receiving end of being called a kid, but he wasn't about to argue with the man, when he was about to ask him for a honking huge favor. "Don't tell me your wife's name is Clementine."

"Son, this here is a tangerine." Frank picked up the fruit again and this time he began to peel it. "A man like me is married to my work, although I have plundered my fair share of mistresses. Tangerine is my chopper."

"Joe tells me your business is flying."

"My life is flying; my business is making a living from desperate scoundrels like you, Agent Dalton." Frank tossed a piece of the tangerine into his mouth. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to get to Hawaii."

"Then you're in for a hell of swim, Son." Bama finished dividing the tangerine into slices, offering a piece to Jack. "You better fuel up."

Jack shook his head at the proffered fruit. "I need to be there in the next eighteen hours, ahead of someone else who I think has the same itinerary."

"Then I'd advise you get yourself to the airport and buy a ticket on the next commercial flight, ASAP."

"I can't do that." Jack shook his head. "I'm pretty sure Joe explained my situation. I'm officially off the radar, basically swinging in the wind."

"Funky Joe told me to come meet you and hear you out. Apparently he owes you, and I, though I can't quite get the math to work like he does, still owe him a favor or two. He did not tell me I was expected to perform a miracle."

"Joe said you were the best chopper pilot he's ever seen."

"Did you miss the chopper part, Kid? Hawaii's not a hop and a skip away, and besides my baby, Tangerine is in…"

"Hilo, I know," Jack said, before Bama could finish. "Joe told me you were in California on a completely tourist route and I hate to interrupt whatever vacation plans a fine upstanding citizen like yourself might have, but I'm offering you a free ride back to your sweet Clementine."

"It's Tangerine, and unlike you, I can actually make it through TSA."

"TSA is the least of my problems." Even using one of his credible aliases Jack would be subjected to hundreds and thousands of cameras and he'd seen Riley work her magic enough to know public transportation was not doable if he wanted his location to remain a secret.

"So you've got a sleek little jet in your pocket then? Because for a 2000 mile flight that's what we'll need."

"My strained situation has severely cut into my access of the nice piloted plane I'm used to, but I have a really pretty Bonanza with Dolly Parton tip tanks sitting on a private field not thirty miles from here. She's way overloaded and illegal as hell, but an old pirate like you should appreciate a challenge."

"A challenge?" Bama laughed, nearly choking on the last piece of the tangerine. "Son, that sounds like suicide."

"I figure barring some vicious head winds and any engine trouble we can make it to Hilo in less than sixteen hours, maybe closer to fourteen if we're lucky and catch a break." Jack had read of a few such trips working out. He'd read of a lot that didn't. "Worst comes to worst we ditch as close as she'll take us and swim the rest of the way."

"What's the longest flight you've made behind the stick, Son?"

"I once flew from Jalalabad Afghanistan to Rawalpindi Pakistan, about 183 miles."

"You realize Hawaii is ten times that far."

"Did I mention I was in a Sikorsky Pave Hawk commissioned in 1982. I had a slug in my leg and was losing blood as about as fast as the old bird was oil from taking ground fire."

"Joe told me you were a real American hero, Kid, it's the only real reason I agreed to come, but..."

"I'm not interested in being a hero, Bama, never was. I'm trying to save some lives, the lives of people I care about. My brothers. One of which I think you happen to know pretty well, even risked your neck to save on occasion. Joe White told me you understood all about this kind of mission and was just crazy and brave enough to be all in."

"I don't know about brave." Bama's eyes sparkled. "But Joe had the crazy part right. I'm beginning to believe the same could be said about you."

"Aren't most stick jockeys a little cock-eyed?"

Bama snorted at Jack's play on words. "The ones of us who've seen combat from the cock-pit sure as hell are."

"Then you'll do it." Jack wasn't insane enough to think he could make the flight alone. He'd need another skilled pilot to cover, to give him breaks in the crazy flight and if necessary one that might have to manually force fuel a tank, or at least take over so Jack could manage it. There was also the part where Jack needed transportation once he got to the Big Island. A chopper, even one named Tangerine, would come in handy in getting to Oahu before Nobel did.

"I'm an old man, Dalton," Bama said. "I don't have a lot left in this world to keep me from risking this crusty leather bag of bones, but I imagine a kid like you has some pretty good reasons for reconsidering this grand plan of yours, maybe a family even."

"Every reason I have for wanting to stick around this mess of a place for a few more years is in serious jeopardy if I don't make it to Hawaii in a timely manner. I'm doing this for my family. If I don't at least try to pull this off, however slim my chances, I might as well take that big leap into the Pacific that you suggested earlier." Jack didn't know why Nobel wanted him in Hawaii, but he knew beyond a shadow of doubt if he didn't play his old teammate's game, Mac would be the forfeit. Jack would never allow that. He leaned across the table, extending his hand. "And if we're going to work together, call me Jack."

Bama stared at Jack for a long moment, then gave a resigned shake of his head as he accepted the handshake."Alright, _Jack_ ; let's go take a look at your girl with those huge tips you promised me."

"You're going to love her." Jack laughed, wishing Mac was with him. The kid would get a kick out of Frank Bama, even if he didn't exactly appreciate the risk that Jack was about to take. Of course if Mac had been there by his side, he'd MacGyver some kind of way for them to make it to Hawaii without climbing onto a weighted down plane that they'd be lucky to coax off the runway and even luckier to keep in the air on their long trek across the Pacific.

"Truthfully, I'm more of a rotor and blades kind of guy," Bama said, sliding off the bar stool to stand.

"Same here." Jack picked up his beer, toasting Bama's sentiment of choosing a chopper over a plane. He killed the rest of the amber liquid in one swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "But then again, I'm not extremely picky when I need a quick ride."

"I guess I'd admit to the same, but my true heart belongs to Tangerine," Bama was saying as he led the way towards the door. "I do love that old gal."

When they made it outside, Jack lifted his head to the sky, where the first tinges of color were making themselves known on the horizon. He briefly wondered if Mac was awake yet, if Bozer had decided to make French toast after all. He looked to Bama, swallowing down the lump that had sprung to his throat, praying that the hot prick of tears he could feel building in his eyes was hidden by the sparse light.

"Love will make a man do some crazy things." Like leave his best friend behind, when he'd promised never to walk out.

"No shit, Kid." The wily pilot snorted. "That's what keeps this old world so damn interesting."

To be continued…

 _A/A/N: If you are not familiar with Frank Bama and Joe White, they are both wonderful characters from Hawaii Five-O. So, this is officially about to become a cross-over. Peter Lenkov has hinted that Jack and Steve McGarett just might have worked together in their respective SEAL and DELTA days and I couldn't help but to run with that idea. It has been a while since I have written in the Hawaii Five-O fandom so please forgive my rustiness. The main focus of this story will remain on Mac and Jack, because well, I love them best. Although, I am curious to see how Danno and Mac will bond while lamenting about their insane partners. Lol_

 _Also, the flight Jack is attempting has been done! If like me you were a little incredulous of the plausibility there have been pilots to take a Cessna from San Diego to Hilo using Bonanza's and Dolly Partons. I'm just a detailed enough to maybe have gotten on a pilot's chat room to make sure. I was thrown by the names Bonanza and Dolly Parton too, but basically they are really big tanks full of fuel. Not the safest or smartest way to travel, but ultimately possible, or so they tell me._

 _Any and all suggestions are so gladly received! So, please, let me know what you think._


	4. Chapter 4

Guard Your Heart

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: First, thank you to all the wonderful reviews. They truly make my day. I hope this chapter does not overwhelm with detail, and remains true to the characters. At the heart, (pun intended), I want this to be a story about Jack and Mac's amazing friendship, the part it played in their pasts and their present. To do this as I have mentioned before I have taken great creative liberty with how they met and the time they shared in the war. We know from cannon that they did indeed meet in Afghanistan, but beyond that we've been left in the dark. Forgive my imaginings. I would love to hear your thoughts! Ps. General Hammond first appeared in my story 'Sheltered' in a flashback scene where Mac tells Bozer about his and Jack's first meeting. Hammond was Jack's CO in Delta, and actually responsible for pairing Jack and Mac in the field when the Delta strike team needed an EOD specialist for a mission they were undertaking.

RcJ

"So tell me again what it is that General Hammond does here at the National War College." Bozer looked out over the stunning view of the Potomac offered from gracious windows at the back of Roosevelt Hall where he and MacGyver were currently awaiting a visit from the very busy general in question.

MacGyver turned from the amazing vista long enough to give a noncommittal shrug of his shoulder. "The College is under the Department of Defense. It houses a lot of offices including those of the CIA. It also trains mid-level and senior military officers in areas of national security strategy and joint and combined warfare. I imagine he could do a number of things."

"Okay." Bozer was still trying to orient himself to the fact that only hours before he'd been in California and was now visiting the Military district of Washington D.C., and had pretty much been allowed on the base of Fort Lesley J. McNair with ease. Mac had merely rambled off a string of nonsensical words and they'd been ushered into an office where they had both had their hands and retinas scanned. Bozer hadn't realized he was in the system, but he'd been given the all clear to follow Mac and the nice armed guards that had escorted them across base to The War College. Sometimes Bozer's head reeled with how much his life had changed in just a few short months. "I'll put that on my list of things I'll ask Jack when I see him."

"I'm not trying to be evasive," Mac said. "I really don't know what Hammond does. I haven't seen him in a couple of years, not since a mission went sideways the last time we were in Afghanistan. You'll learn after you've been at this job longer that it's better not to ask direct questions. People don't tend to talk specifically about what they do."

"Meaning they lie." Bozer didn't plan for the comment to come out snippy. He was past the deception on Mac's part, really he was, but it was still a little unsettling to continually uncover these new facets of his closest friends. He'd known MacGyver most of their lives, considered him family, that consideration extended to Jack as well, but the more he learned that he didn't really know them at all, the more frustrated he became.

"Meaning I think they realize that generalities are merely easier." MacGyver answered, not bothering to look away from the Potomac this time.

"Or they think it's easier just not to talk at all." Bozer sighed. The plane ride to D.C. had been painfully quiet. At first Mac had indulged Bozer's excitement over the plush private jet and the ease at which they'd made their way to the opposite coast of the United States, but soon he'd closed in, effectively shutting Bozer out with the silence. It was a typical Mac move, one Bozer understood to some degree and expected, but still hated. He resorted to texting pictures of the sweet ride to Riley but couldn't stop thinking that if Jack had been there, he'd been able to do something to pull Mac back to them. "Look, Mac, I know you're worried about Jack, but…"

"I'm pissed at Jack," Mac turned to Bozer, blue eyes flashing. "There's a difference."

"Alrighty then." Bozer did not envy Jack when they did find him. It took a lot to make Angus MacGyver mad, but once he was at that point, he wasn't one to let it go either. There weren't many people who could push Mac's buttons. Bozer had never given his best friend much reason to look at him with the kind of anger he saw simmering in Mac's heated gaze, but then again Bozer was learning that his friendship with Mac and Mac and Jack's partnership had extremely different dynamics.

"I'm sorry," Mac said, running a hand through his hair with a wince. "Of course I'm worried about the big jerk, but I'm angrier with him because I wouldn't have to be so worried about him if he'd just done what we always do and stuck together."

"The headache's probably not helping either," Bozer pointed out, earning him a narrowed gaze that might not have been full on pissed, but was definitely verging on irritation with a side of exasperation. Mac had at least put the sling back on his injured arm, but he'd refused the painkillers, insisting in typical fashion that he was fine, although they both knew he wasn't. Mac's face was paler than normal, and he'd only picked at the food they'd gotten on the way to the base. "I'm just saying a little Tylenol can go a long way, but if you want to keep on hurting, go right ahead. Jack would say…"

"Jack's not here," Mac snapped.

"And why is that exactly?" A deep voiced boomed from behind them, catching both Bozer and Mac unaware. They whirled to face the man that had joined them without notice.

Mac went ram-rod straight. "General Hammond."

Bozer felt all of twelve again. He had a sudden image of Mac and him in middle school and them being caught red-handed after hours in the science lab by the vice principal. Only General Hammond was ten times scarier and a hell of a lot more imposing than Mrs. Helena Vance, although they shared a similar unapproachable countenance and an impressive mustache.

The general stood at least six foot four, decked out in Marine blues with enough brass to bounce sunlight across the massive concourse. Hammond boasted broad shoulders and a buzz cut that left only the slightest trace of silver hair on his dark-skinned head. The huge dog at his side completed the picture.

Bozer didn't know his canine breeds, being more of a cat person himself, but it looked like the kind of beast you saw barreling through the snow with a barrel of water tied around its neck, maybe a St. Bernard, only solid white. The pink bandana stitched with daisies it was sporting did little to take away from its regal and menacing demeanor. Bozer felt both the need to salute the statuesque uniformed stranger and step back from the dog, who he swore was eyeing him like a Milkbone, but he stood his ground and kept his hands in place, even managing a forced smile.

"Angus MacGyver." Hammond stepped forward, surprising Bozer by engulfing Mac in a huge bear hug. The dog whined but stayed where she was. The General seemed to take note of Mac's injuries and released him rather quickly, but he kept both his hands on Mac's shoulder as he took a step back to get a better look at the younger man. "Damn, it's good to see you, Son. Even if you are looking a little worse for wear."

"It's good to see you too, Sir." Mac gestured to the sling. "I wish it were under different circumstances."

"Director Thornton said you were shot. By a sniper in the middle of Los Angeles?"

Mac nodded. "Last night."

"Where the hell was Dalton?"

Mac shifted feet, one hand tightening into a fist. "He was with me."

"And he didn't sense anything amiss?" The General's frown deepened. "That doesn't sound like him. Where the hell is he now?"

"That's the question of the hour," Mac said. "He's gone dark."

Hammond frowned. "Mac, you know as well as I do if Jack Dalton doesn't want to be found, it's bloody likely nobody is going to find him."

"That's why we came to you about Operation MOD. It's the only solid lead we have on why Jack went off the radar, and the only hope we have of finding a way to track him."

"We?" Hammond lifted his gaze to Bozer as if he just now realized another person was in his presence. "Who the hell is this?"

"Sir, this is Wilt Bozer." Mac gestured to Bozer, a genuine grin tugging at his mouth for the first time since they'd left California. "He works with me and Jack in the lab at Phoenix."

"New recruit?" General Hammond quickly surmised, arching a silver brow at Bozer in a way that left him feeling a bit like he was being sized up for battle. Bozer wasn't sure, but being invisible might have been preferable to the intense scrutiny he was now enduring. "Are you military, Son?"

"No, Sir," Bozer shook his head this time, although he was pretty certain the man had also deduced as much. "Just a lowly civilian I'm afraid."

"Nothing wrong with that, Wilt." Hammond extended his hand to Bozer.

"Call me Bozer. Wilt is my Dad." Bozer tried not to grimace as his hand was practically crushed in the much bigger man's grip.

"Curie, my service dog is a civilian, too." The marine released his grip on Bozer, nodding to the furry white giant, who gave a bark at the sound of her name. "Best damn partner I've ever had, and at least you're not godforsaken Army like MacGyver here, or his good for nothing AWOL partner, Jack. You know what Army stands for, don't you, Son?"

Bozer sensed this was some sort of trick question and looked to Mac, who merely shook his head.

"Ain't Really a Marine Yet!" Hammond chuckled at his own joke and slapped Bozer on the back. "We won't even talk about the Air Force, because the fly boys really get my hackles up."

"You do realize this is an Army post, Hammond," Mac said, folding his arms over his chest. "Has been for over two hundred years. You're lucky they let a Marine on base."

"So they tell me," Hammond clapped Mac on his uninjured shoulder. "But the way I see it, it's a damn good thing the mess hall serves some fine chow or they'd never talked me in to taking this position in the first place."

Mac snorted. "From the way you and Jack used to go through rations I'm pretty sure you probably eat twice your salary."

"If Jack's intellect was even half the size of his appetite we'd probably not be having this conversation." Hammond sighed, letting his hand fall away from Mac. "What's he gone and gotten himself into now, Shepherd?"

"Shepherd?" On the plane ride to D.C. Bozer had tried asking Mac about the call sign he'd instructed Director Thornton to use to get her call through to Hammond, but Mac had once again dodged the question. Bozer wasn't about to miss his chance to get the real story, even if Mac was giving him the stink eye for straying off the topic they'd come to discuss.

"He didn't tell you?" Hammond glanced to Bozer, then looked back to Mac with a fond grin and a shake of his head. "I never understood why a kid with a name like _Angus_ didn't take to such a nice handle like Shepherd."

Mac rolled his eyes. "Probably for the same reason a kid named _Perseus_ used to bust guys chops for calling him The Hammer."

" _The Hammer_ I get," Bozer said, lifting a hand of apology when Hammond narrowed his gaze. "No offense, Sir, but you look like you'd just as soon nail a guy to the wall or pound someone into the floor as you would say hello."

Hammond snorted. "You ain't wrong, Son."

"But Shepherd I'm not quite feeling. If you know Mac at all, I imagine you understand he's not going to tell me, even if I am his oldest friend in the world."

"I think I know Mac pretty well," Hammond replied, glancing at the man in question before gesturing for Mac and Bozer to follow him. "Walk with me. We'll go somewhere we can talk."

"We called Mac The Shepherd because of what he did for the team," Hammond said as they made their way down a long corridor that sported bright white walls accented with exposed brick. Curie trotted faithfully by the general's side. "You have to understand a thing or two about sheep, Bozer. In some ways, they are a lot like well-trained soldiers. They have flocking behavior, meaning they band together in groups for protection, but they're also conditioned to be followers. When one sheep moves the rest will follow suit, just like a good soldier, even if it isn't always a good idea to do so. That's why sheep, and soldiers in places like Afghanistan especially need a knowledgeable shepherd to go out before them, to tell them where it's safe to tread. A shepherd keeps sheep from walking off the proverbial cliff, or in Mac's case, prevents men from stepping on or driving over an IED."

"Doesn't sound exactly safe for the shepherd." Bozer glanced at Mac who was conveniently checking out the framed photographs along their way.

"It's not." Hammond stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall, shooting Mac another glance as he removed a modern key card from his pocket and flashed it in front of the high-tech scanner that Bozer could now see had been placed just below the shiny antique brass knob of the door. "That's why a good EOD specialist is high-valued gear in the Sand Pit. They're worth their weight in gold, and why if a C.O. is smart he assigns his best man to watch the EOD's back."

"You mean Jack," Bozer said as he followed Hammond into the office. He knew Mac was staring at him, but he kept his eyes on the general who took his seat behind a massive cherry desk, leaving the plush chairs in front of it for his two guests. Curie took her spot on a giant dog bed shaped like a baseball near the General's feet.

"Jack Dalton," Hammond started as he opened the top drawer in his desk and removed a key. "Despite his faults, of which there are many, is the best damn shooter I have ever seen. I once watched him make a clean kill at over 1800 yards. The target dropped like a rock, a thing of pure beauty."

Bozer wasn't sure he'd call killing someone, even the enemy, a thing of beauty but then he'd never been in battle and wasn't about to judge, especially when the person in question was Jack. He glanced to Mac who had unsurprisingly found a paperclip and was fashioning it into some shape or another.

"He's also loyal and stubborn as the day is long." Hammond took the key and placed it a side panel on his desk, revealing another drawer that popped free when he applied his palm to an electronic key pad.

"You got the stubborn part right," Mac muttered, still focused on the paper clip, and totally not noticing all the cool National Treasure gadgets Hammond's desk seemed to hold.

Hammond reached into the recess of the hidden compartment and retrieved a file before setting his dark eyes on Bozer. "It's hard for a civilian to understand, but in combat sometimes the loyalty and stubborn tenacity factor mean more than the skill level. Skill you can teach, but steadfastness and courage- now that's something a man is born with or not. But when you run across a soldier, like Jack that has it all, including love for his brothers and his country, you have the makings of a perfect storm."

"Don't forget a little bit of crazy," Mac inserted again, only this time when he met Hammond's gaze there was a hint of challenge as if he were daring the general to say he was wrong. "It's a required ingredient in special forces."

"It is," Hammond admitted. He opened the file on his desk, before leaning forward so his elbows rested on the polished wood. Where Mac seemed a touch angry, even accusing, Hammond looked resigned, maybe even remorseful. "We both know Jack is just enough of a loose cannon to go into situations most people would never consider. He'll take on what seems like a suicide mission if the payoff is worth it, and by worth it I mean lives are going to be saved. The more value he places on the particular life may be directly correlated to the amount of crazy he can bring, but then again, I've seen you walk out into the middle of a red zone with any number of hajis in the area to disarm enough ordnance to take out half a city block when you thought his life was in danger. That's not exactly rational behavior, Son."

Mac tossed the paperclip on the desk. If Bozer wasn't mistaken it was in the shape of a sheep. "As you pointed out, I always had someone watching my back. No one is watching Jack's back, unless you've pulled him for another Ops someone forgot to tell me about."

"Damn, Kid." Hammond shook his head. "I can promise you I have no idea where Jack is."

"You've told me that before." Mac lifted his chin indignantly. "And lied."

"You're not ever going to forgive me for that are you?"

"Considering the state Jack was in when I tracked him and his team down, do you blame me." Mac leaned forward. "But I'm giving you a chance to make it up to me, to make it right between us, just like you promised you would, Hammer."

"You know I'm good for my word, Shepherd." The General tapped the file he'd pulled from the stack. "Talking about this Direct Action, with civilians no less, could cost me my big fat pension, and probably a few of my stars, not to mention my appointment here at the college. So, you'll understand if before I spill by guts I'd like to understand how you think it's relevant to what happened to you last night and why you believe it will lead you to Jack."

"After the shooting, Jack received a package." Mac gestured to Bozer. "Actually Bozer received the drop with his Chinese food, but it was for Jack. It contained a letter and a bullet."

"Do you have them?" Hammond asked.

"No." Mac pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Bozer resisted asking him if he was okay knowing the backlash it would bring. Besides, he'd promised Thornton and Mac he would be a silent observer if he was allowed to come on the fact gathering mission. "Jack took them, but Bozer got a glimpse of the signature on the letter. It was Alfred Nobel, at least it was the initial A. with the last name Nobel. I filled in the gaps…"

"That's not possible," Hammond interrupted Mac.

"But it makes perfect since," Mac snapped, uncharacteristically. "There was a drawing of dynamite on the letter. Alfred Nobel created dynamite and then we find out this particular Ops name was Merchant of …."

"Death," The General interrupted Mac, holding up a hand to halt Mac's impassioned rebuttal. "I know, and I understand your line of thinking, MacGyver. As usual you're right on about the facts, but what I'm telling you is that it can't be Alfred Nobel because he's dead."

"Like a hundred years dead, right?" Bozer interjected. "That's what I said."

Mac gave his roommate a 'please be quiet' glare. "I don't think General Hammond is talking about the original Alfred Nobel, Boze."

"I'm talking about Jonas Carol, who went by the codename Nobel when he was with The Unit. The boys called him that in the beginning because he was whip smart, always had a book in his hand. Jonas was always coming up with some crazy invention or another, bragging how he was going to win the first Nobel Prize for revolutionized weaponry. In the end Nobel suited him for a variety of unsavory reasons."

"So Jack and Nobel were friends?" Mac asked.

"Jonas and Jack were tight. They were part of a unique four man strike team, a collaboration between the SEALS and Delta. Their strike force was a big deal for a while, and in demand. It was before Afghanistan. Before we met you. When we were pulling missions in Iraq." Hammond flipped through the contents of the file, withdrawing a photograph which he handed to Mac. "Jonas was Navy, but as you know we pull from all branches in Delta, especially if a man has a certain skillset we find exceptional or useful for our agenda. Jonas was an excellent frogman and a skilled sniper, but it was his work with unusual and creative ammo that caught my eye, especially when it came to incendiary munitions. He could do wonders with phosphorous and hydrogen, which you know can come in handy when you're infiltrating bunkers where you can't get actual eyes on the enemy."

"Incendiary ammunition is also useful in taking out communications targets," Mac said studying the photograph."Jack's told me about some of those missions in Iraq. He never mentioned Jonas or this strike team."

"They didn't exactly have a happy ending. The team was disbanded, reassigned, when Jonas got hurt. He messed up his hands working with some particularly nasty chemicals trying to perfect an acidic shell. The prognosis wasn't good for him to be able to hold a gun again, let along work sniping. He was discharged and sent home long before Operation MOD took place, though I can't say he went quietly into the dark night. Jonas liked what he did, maybe a little too much. He thought his team and his country had betrayed him." Hammond drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Bozer watched as Curie quickly rose from her spot on the floor and moved to the general's side, nudging his hand with her nose. She whined, licking his palm. Hammond patted her head. "It's okay, girl."

"I don't mean to bring up bad memories, General." Mac's voice took on a softer tone. Bozer noted the expression on his roommate's face as he met Hammond's gaze. It was emotion-filled. Though unable to pin down the exact feelings swirling in his friend's blue eyes, Bozer knew they spoke to a mutual understanding. Bozer surmised he would never fully grasp the depth behind it, but he'd witnessed enough similar exchanges between Jack and Mac through the years to recognize it as what he liked to term a dark knowing.

"I wouldn't be here if you weren't a last resort," Mac continued.

"I know, Son," Hammond replied.

Bozer watched the general run his hand over Curie's broad head, taking measured breaths as he did. Bozer had reconciled himself long ago to the fact that there were some things he could not completely grasp about war. He'd never experienced combat. Nor did he want to. Being shot at by Murdoc was only a tiny example of the kind of terror soldiers endured on a daily basis. Bozer easily recalled one night when his lack of understanding became vividly clear.

He'd had been roused from a deep sleep by screams coming from Mac's room. The sound was not like what one heard in movies when people were trapped in a nightmare. These were primal, painful, terror-filled cries that had Bozer scrambling out of his bed, reaching for the ball bat he kept near the door and running down the hallway thinking his roommate was undoubtedly being torn apart by some wild animal or sadistic ax-wielding intruder.

At the time, Bozer thought it a lucky coincidence that Jack had stayed over after an evening of pizza and marathon movie watching. Who better to have in the house during a break in than their very own Rambo. But knowing what he knew now, Bozer believed Jack had spent the night because he anticipated that whatever mission he and Mac had just completed for Phoenix might have been bad enough to trigger memories of worse things Mac had seen or done while in Afghanistan.

Bozer had made it to Mac's room to find Jack already there. Jack had opened the door and flipped on the light but his bulking six foot plus frame had not crossed the threshold into the room. He'd caught Bozer's arm in a vice-like grip as Bozer tried to move past him to help Mac. His soft 'no' had brought Bozer up short, the younger man not understanding why Jack, of all people, was merely standing there doing nothing when Mac's screams had been replaced by a heavy hitched breathing that obviously told of his continued distress.

At Bozer's confused look, Jack had quietly and calmly told him it wasn't safe, to give Mac a minute. Bozer wanted to argue that he wasn't afraid of Mac, that Mac would never hurt him, but one look at his roommate, who by this time was sitting up in his bed, hands fisted in his blankets, face covered in sweat, had Bozer staying silent. Mac's stare was vacant, his trembling violent. There was a sudden realization on Bozer's part that Mac wasn't awake and that although he was physically before them, his mind was most likely trapped a thousand miles away, engaged in some god-awful thing. It had Bozer's earlier conviction wavering. Perhaps Jack knew best. He'd put the ball bat down and stayed exactly where he was.

Jack finally approached the bed, taking a seat at the end, just out of Mac's reach. He'd called to Mac, first softly, and then with a voice that instantly reminded Bozer that Jack had been an officer in the Army. The commanding tone and use of Mac's full name had done the trick. Mac had startled, then searched the room for a life ring, the way a drowning man might scan endless water. He seemed to find what he was looking for when his gaze locked on Jack.

Jack had waited until Mac's breath evened out and he had blinked a few more times before touching him. When he'd put his hand on Mac's shoulder, Mac had given a nod, a choked sob escaping, before he'd quickly covered his face with his hands. The move wasn't fast enough. It hadn't kept Bozer from seeing the anguish in Mac's eyes, the complete brokenness reflected in the tortured blue gaze.

Mac's pain had compelled him to move then. Bozer had shifted ever so slightly, intent on trying to help, but then Mac had slumped forward and Jack had caught him. Mac's hands latched onto the back of Jack's shirt as if it were the only thing keeping him from flying apart or maybe going under to the dark place he'd just clawed his way back from.

Jack spoke softly to Mac the whole time, words Bozer couldn't quite make out. His fingers carded through Mac's hair like a parent calming a frightened child who'd just awoken from a bad dream, but Bozer knew in that instant that whatever monsters Mac had been fighting were far worse than any conjuring of a kid's imagination. The scene, completely out of character for both men, yet somehow so fitting shifted the room into foreign territory for Bozer like a dizzying change of perspective in a film. Bozer had made a silent retreat. He gently shut the door behind him, leaning up against it, the hushed murmur of Jack's voice coming from inside somehow almost as frightening as his friend's earlier screams.

It was Mac's voice that shook Bozer from the past now. It took a second for him to realize that Mac had asked him a question, and that he and Hammond were waiting for an answer.

"Sorry," Bozer focused on his best friend. "What did you say?"

"I was telling Hammond that Jack had asked you about the delivery man's hands. You told him he was wearing gloves?"

"Yeah, the hands were the first thing Jack asked about." Bozer nodded.

Mac glanced at Hammond as if Jack's inquiry was hard proof that pointed directly to Jonas. He then turned to Bozer and passed him the photograph the general had handed off to him earlier. "Could this be the man?"

"Like I told Jack the guy was wearing a ball cap pulled low over his eyes." Bozer took the picture and studied it for a moment, looking for points he might sketch if he had a pencil in his hand. There were certain features that stood out when one went to draw a person's likeness, and Bozer's trained eye easily found them. "It was dark, but I can tell you the bone structure is definitely similar, the nose and cheek bones as well. This dude is younger, but I would feel pretty confident saying it was the same guy."

Mac reclaimed the photograph and handed it to Hammond. "You have to believe us now. Jack had to consider that letter was from Nobel."

"I just don't understand how that's possible." Hammond leaned on the desk, his dark gaze searching Mac's. "I'm telling you Nobel didn't make it home from Operation MOD. Jack would have known that beyond a shadow of a doubt because he was the one who made the kill."

"Wait," Mac shook his head. "Why was Jack shooting at Nobel if they were on the same strike team? Furthermore, why was Nobel even on that mission if he'd been discharged earlier after his accident?"

"Those are damn good questions." Hammond grimaced, running a hand over his buzzed hair. "The kind of questions which have answers that absolutely cannot leave this room."

Mac sighed. "If Nobel is alive and shooting people in Los Angeles it seems he would pose the greatest security risk at the moment. I'm betting if we can find my partner, then we can find him."

"Alright. I'll tell you about MOD." Hammond leaned back in his chair, his hand finding a place on Curie's head once more. He glanced out the large window behind his desk. "About a year after Jonas received his honorable discharge, the NSA got a tip that he was shopping out his expertise. It seemed he'd decided to ironically become the one thing the original Alfred Nobel feared. A merchant of death. Needless to say, it didn't take long for several third world countries to become interested. The NSA discovered he had several prospective buyers lined up. When one of them made him an offer he couldn't refuse the CIA got involved. Before we could act on the intel, Jonas disappeared."

"So you sent his own team to retrieve him?" Mac surmised.

"Man, that's cold." Bozer didn't actually mean to speak his thoughts out loud, but General Hammond didn't disagree with his assessment.

"It's actually tactically smart," Mac said, rubbing his forehead as if he could massage away some invisible ache. "Nobody knows you better than the men you've fought alongside, the brothers you've bled with."

"Jack and the two SEALs who'd been part of Jonas's team weren't thrilled with the mission, and that was when they still believed the Op was an extraction." Hammond tapped the folder. "But MOD was never meant to be a recovery. I made that clear when we arrived in the little war torn village. There was never a hope of bringing Jonas back alive after the CIA and NSA discovered evidence that Nobel had created some kind of biological active bullet. They felt the risk he posed was greater than any courtesy he'd earned. He became a high-value target and our directive was the same as it had been on so many of those missions Jonas helped run in Iraq-seek and destroy."

"Do I even want to know what a biological active bullet is?" Bozer asked, looking from Hammond to Mac.

Hammond remained silent yet again and Bozer had to call Mac's name to reclaim his attention. "That wasn't a rhetorical question, Dude."

"Sorry." Mac, who looked even paler than before, cleared his throat, giving a little shake of his head. "It's a round of ammunition that can carry a viable substance in the jacket, so that when the target is shot, the agent reacts and enters the system of whomever it hits. The biologic may be anything from a chemical mixture to a toxin that might cause the target's organs to shut down or for instance bring on instant paralysis in the victim. It could even be a virus with a potential to spread from patient zero."

"Yeah," Bozer drawled, shrinking back in his seat. "I didn't think I wanted to know."

"So you see why Jonas was eliminated," Hammond concluded. "He nor his work could be allowed to fall into enemy hands."

"Only it's becoming painfully obvious that he wasn't killed," Mac growled. "I don't know how or why this man is still alive, but I believe he is. I think he shot me, and I think he did so to get at Jack or to goad him into to doing something stupid."

"Like what, Son?" Hammond's voice rose and Curie whined loudly. "If this is some kind of revenge tactic, Nobel sure as hell bided his time. I know it's a dish best served cold but Operation MOD took place in 2009. And if Jonas really wanted to make Jack suffer wouldn't he have killed you straight out, let Jack watch you die."

"That might still be his intention," Mac said cryptically.

"What do you mean?" Hammond asked.

"It's like you pointed out earlier, Sir, people can do completely illogical and irrational things when they have the right motivation." Mac rubbed his shoulder. "If we can't talk to Jack or Nobel that leaves the other two members of their original strike team."

"One of those members will be of no help. He's dead," Hammond informed them. "Freddie Hart was killed on a mission in North Korea in 2010."

"Are you sure about that?" Bozer couldn't help but to ask. "Because it's beginning to look like dead doesn't exactly mean _dead_ when it comes to your top secret military men."

Hammond gave Bozer a withering look that spoke to how his patience with the civilian was holding up. "His remains were retrieved from North Korea by the fourth member of the team a few years back. I attended his funeral myself, Mr. Bozer."

"I'm guessing Nobel's body was never retrieved?" Mac asked.

Hammond shook his head. "Operation MOD went sideways quickly. I was on exfiltration and we barely got the three-man strike team out before everything went to hell."

"So you relied on Jack's statement that Nobel was dead?"

"The commander of the team reported directly to me that the target had been eliminated, and the command post of the men who'd hired him along with all of Nobel's research destroyed. He also informed me that Tombstone had been the one to make the kill." Hammond gave Mac a hard look. "Trust me when I tell you, Mac that Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarret is not a man who disregards orders or takes his duty lightly. He would not have falsified a report to a superior no matter his personal relationship with Jack or Nobel."

"I'd still like to hear it straight from him," Mac said. "Besides he's the only solid lead we have."

"Then that will require a trip to Hawaii." Hammond took another photograph from the file and passed it to Mac. "Steve is technically still in the Navy, but heads up a special task force in Honolulu. He's not going to leave his post to entertain your theories."

"So we get some beach time after all?" Bozer forced a smile, hoping to ease the distressed look on Mac's face.

"Hawaii is a long flight." Mac tried to stand but wavered. If Bozer hadn't moved quickly he would have pitched forward.

"Mac?" Bozer gripped his friend's arm, gently easing him back into the chair. "You don't look so good."

"I don't feel so good," Mac replied quietly. If the admission of being less than perfectly well wasn't bad enough, Bozer noticed the fine layer of sheen glistening on Mac's brow, the way his hand shook slightly when he reached to grip the arm of the chair.

"Are you alright, Son?" Hammond stood, moving from behind his desk to stand in front of Mac. Curie tucked in close to his side, her ample body rubbing up against Bozer as she made a place between them.

"That depends." Mac looked up at the general.

"On what?"Bozer asked. It was another one of those loaded questions Bozer wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer to.

"On how fast we can get to Hawaii and whether or not General Hammond has access to a medical lab that can run a blood test for me."

"Damn."Bozer did not like the sound of that. He'd somehow known from the first moment Mac had explained the biological warfare bullet that is was like not so subtle foreshadowing.

Hammond still looked a bit confused. "We have an excellent research lab here, but why is that a crucial factor at this point?"

Mac looked from Bozer to Hammond, the tiniest hint of fear in his blue gaze reaffirming what Bozer had hoped was merely him letting his creative 'that would make an awesome plot of a movie' brain get away with him.

"Because although I still have no clue as to what Nobel wants from Jack, I think I have a pretty good idea what leverage he's planning on using to get it from him."

To be continued….


	5. Chapter 5

Guard Your Heart

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, especially to Gib and all the others that inquired about this chapter being posted. I am sorry it has taken so long, but it is actually the longest one I have posted so I hope that helps. I am only able to grab twenty to thirty minutes writing time these days, but will try to work faster on this next part. I am kind of wishing I had stuck to missing scenes. Lol. Again, this has officially become a crossover with Hawaii Five 0 though the focus will still be on MacGyver! Had I known the lovely Mr. Lenkov was going to actually do a crossover this season I probably would have held off on writing this one. Oh well, hopefully it won't be too off the mark. I haven't written Danny and Steve in a while so I apologize if they are not on point. As always, reviews are so welcomed and quickly devoured. The flashback scene in the last part could possibly become a short stand alone. We shall see where the muse leads.

RCJ

"What kind of package did you say we were picking up?" Danny Williams looked over at his partner who was currently sitting on the hood of Danny's car dusted in granulated sugar and drinking his coffee laced with half a stick of butter. Of course Super SEAL, Steve McGarrett had probably swum ten kilometers and run a half marathon before normal people were awake this morning but Danny still didn't see the sense in gluttony.

"I didn't," Steve said around another satisfied bite of his Malasada.

"Why was that again?" Danny asked rhetorically, knowing exactly why his partner hadn't come clean. "Could it have been because you have no clue what we're here to pick up because the unexpected delivery was announced by one Joe White in no doubt what was a cryptic coded relaying of nonsensical military lingo. Instead of picking up a parcel at the United States Post Office like a normal human being, we're waiting in the middle of nowhere, at an abandoned air field that looks like a place where old decrepit planes come to die."

Steve opened his mouth to say something but Danny rushed on. "Seeing as how the announcement of said package and the request for pick-up was made in the wee hours of the morning from a man we only, and I mean only ever hear from when there is some kind of unknown disaster waiting in the wings, I can only hazard a guess as to why you didn't bother asking for said specifics. If you indeed don't know what we are picking up, at a clandestine location I might add, you don't have to relay that said information to your partner when he entreats you as to why you are delaying the very important meeting you had scheduled at headquarters first thing this morning to come half way across the island at Funky Joe's beckoning."

"Beckoning, Danny? Really?" Steve dusted his hands on his pants, scattering crumbs on Danny's beloved Camaro, which had just been carefully washed the day before. "You're paranoid, you know that? Paranoid and cynical. And so full of big words for such a little man."

"I'm paranoid?" Danny raised his eyebrows, ignoring the jab to his stature. He took a drink of his coffee. "Don't think I didn't notice you checking the rearview mirror, Steven, at least twenty times on our drive over here. Considering you don't use instruments of safety when changing lanes of traffic travelling at death rate speeds, I can only think that you were afraid we might be tailed."

"Is there anything wrong with being cautious?"

"No, but what I call being cautious when picking up a package sent by Joe White is along the lines of bringing some assault rifles, Kevlar body suits, the rest of our team perhaps, or better yet requesting SWAT join us for breakfast here in the early morning sunshine, not checking the rearview mirror for a tail."

"Joe told me to keep the pick up on the down low." Steve grinned. "And I didn't have enough money to buy Malasadas for everyone."

"You didn't buy those." Danny pointed at their breakfast. "Or the coffee I might add."

"Thank you, by the way." Steve opened the bakery bag and took out another pastry, annoyingly unconcerned with all the points Danny was making about his former commanding officer. Joe White spelled trouble, plain and simple. "I'll pay you back at lunch."

"You're assuming we're going to survive until lunch." Danny set his coffee on the hood and folded his arms over his chest as he regarded the sky line. "Considering Joe warned you to be discreet I'm not so sure. Discreet for a Navy SEAL means someone is going to be shooting at us. Soon."

"Paranoid," Steve mumbled around another mouthful of Malasada.

Danny reached over and snatched the bag, unable to hold off any longer. If he was going to die today in a hail of gunfire and grenades he might as well eat whatever the hell he wanted. His daughter Grace would never be the wiser.

"I thought you were on a diet?" Steve asked, washing the last bite of his breakfast down with a gulp of his coffee.

"I hate you," Danny took a bite of the last pastry, stifling the moan of pleasure that wanted to escape. Food was one of the things he'd come to love about Hawaii in the years since moving to the godforsaken islands.

"No you don't," Steve assessed with a smirk. "It's just something you feel you have to say to keep up your whole tough guy image, just like I know on the inside you're just as curious as me as to what Joe's sending. Your negative nature just keeps you from expressing such sentiment."

"Excuse me." Danny, a civilized person, used a napkin to wipe his hands and face. He took another out of the bag and handed it to Steve who still had crumbs clinging to his mouth like Danny's five-year-old son might. "In all the years you have known me have you ever witnessed me displaying one modicum of curiosity. Such 'sentiment' killed the cat for a reason, my friend, and it will most likely finish you off before this day is through. And, I'm not negative."

"No," Steve snorted, wiping his face and tossing the napkin back at Danny. "Not negative at all."

"Did Joe happen to tell you how this package is being delivered at least?" Danny gestured to the overgrown field around them that was strewn with discarded parts of long ago planes, like some ancient elephant graveyard for metal beasts. "No self-respecting pilot with half a brain is going to land a plane here. Maybe the package will merely fall from the sky, like a bomb perhaps? Air raids are so up Joe's alley, and not out of the realm of the ways I've imagined your inevitable demise, or mine as I'm usually being forced to accompany you into deadly situations."

"Bama's bringing it?"

"Frank Bama?" Danny shook his head. "That shows my assessment of the pilot being out of his mind as one hundred percent correct."

"He's not landing a plane." Steve gestured to the area. "There's plenty of room for a chopper. I imagine he's bringing Tangerine."

"The flying chicken coop?" Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how this day might possibly get worse.

"It was one chicken, Danny."

"You realize how ridiculous your statement is, correct?" Danny crumpled the empty pastry bag and resisted the urge to toss it amongst the other things littering the ground. "Although some might call them birds, helicopters, at least ones that still transport people, should not be places where chickens build nests and lay their eggs. Such machines should not be covered in feathers and bird excrement."

"Maybe Frank sees it as company and instant breakfast." Steve shrugged. "No matter, the man has used that 'bird' to save both our lives on several occasions, with the help of Joe White I might add, so we owe it to them to at least do this small favor."

"Is that how Joe phrased it, that he was needing a small favor? Because that makes me even more nervous."

"Actually he said he was doing someone else a favor and that the package was for me."

"Huh." Danny sighed, a new scenario running through his mind. "You don't think said package could be oh, I don't know, your crazy double agent mother, Doris, or your even more enigmatic on again off again almost fiancé Katherine do you?"

"I don't know but I'm guessing we're about to find out." Steve pointed to the skyline where Danny neither heard nor saw any signs of the flying monstrosity, Tangerine. Still, Steve with the super senses slid off the Camaro and kept his gaze locked on the phantom carrier.

It wasn't long before Danny picked up on what his partner had zeroed in on earlier. Tangerine appeared in the sky, a black dot in the vast blue at first before quickly morphing into the hulking behemoth she was just before touching down.

Danny reluctantly recalled the times he'd been forced to climb aboard the chopper. He'd wager money that all of Bama's passengers were fleeing from death or maybe running from something or someone scarier than the insane pilot and his flying machine of doom. The old girl and Bama probably looked good to a soldier fleeing a war zone back in the days of Vietnam, but now a man had to be beyond hard pressed to hitch a ride.

The tall guy climbing out of the chopper with a duffel slung over his shoulder was too far away for Danny to judge his level of desperation. Once on the ground he gave a salute to Bama, before hustling out of the way of the chopper's blades which had picked up a quicker rotation once more kicking up sand and vegetation around them.

"Looks like Bama's not going to be joining us." Danny glanced at Steve as their pilot friend sent them a quick wave, before lifting off once more after his passenger was clear. Danny couldn't help but to wonder if the man smelled trouble and was getting the heck out of Dodge.

"I know you're sad about that."

"With you as my partner, I can only handle one extra crazy person at a time." Danny gestured to the guy jogging towards them from across the field. "I'm guessing he's going to meet my quota today."

"We don't even know who _he_ is." Steve pointed out, lifting a hand to shade his eyes to get a better look at the man quickly covering ground.

"I know Joe White sent him." Danny looked at Steve. "I also know he willingly flew here with Bama. Two strikes against him right there."

Steve shook his head. "Did I mention how cynical you are?"

"Wait for it." Danny said as the guy closed the gap, nearly to them now. He was at least Steve's height or a little taller, fit like Steve, wearing a Cubs baseball cap and sporting a few day's growth of beard. He removed his Aviator sunglasses as he came to stand in front of them.

"Smooth Dawg," The man said with an exaggerated Southern drawl and a big grin cast in Steve's direction. "Long time no see, Brother."

"And there it is!" Danny stuck his finger in the air as his partner moved closer to the man who was obviously an old friend from his combat days. "Strike number three. The use of your old codename is all the proof I need."

"I'll be damned." Steve shook his head in slight disbelief, ignoring Danny's rant as he welcomed the newcomer with a back-pounding hug. "Jack Dalton. As I live and breathe."

"It's been a long time, McGarrett," Dalton said when the two men broke apart.

"Too long, buddy," Steve looked the other man up and down. "I'm guessing by the lack of luggage and the fact you flew in with Bama versus more traditional means that you aren't here for that vacation I promised you a few years back."

"Afraid not." Jack glanced to Danny, then back to Steve. "I'm sorry I had to have Joe run interference. This wasn't how I planned on visiting."

"Most people just call, or text before dropping in," Danny piped up. "Maybe send an email, or Tweet."

"Jack Dalton," Steve gestured to Danny. "This is my partner Detective Danny Williams. Danny, this is Captain Jack Dalton."

"It's Agent Dalton now," Jack stuck out a hand to Danny. "But call me Jack."

"Agent, huh?" Danny lifted a brow at Steve. "Let me guess-CIA?"

"Used to be," Jack grinned. "Now I'm somewhere a little more covert."

"More covert?" Danny didn't know one could actually get more covert than the CIA, but if it were possible then it didn't surprise him that one of their agents would be friends with Steve McGarrett.

"That's right," Steve was saying. "The spy outfit in California."

Jack nodded. "For a few years now."

"Don't spies usually have access to techy stuff, like spy gadgets and I don't know… Aston Martins and airplanes or by covert do you mean your agency runs on minimal funds?" Steve gave Danny a hard look, which Danny chose to ignore for his partner's own good. One of them had to look out for their best interests, and a sudden appearance by an operative from an ultra-secretive agency could not be in any shape or form good for them. "Because I have never once seen James Bond fly onto the scene in anything like Tangerine."

"I'm not here in an official capacity," Jack explained. He glanced at Steve. "I had to come in dark."

"By dark you mean…" Danny started.

"Completely off the radar," Steve supplied. "No burner phones, no credit cards. No typical means of transportation. Has someone in your web been compromised?"

"This doesn't have to do with work. Not exactly. I had to pull in every favor from my service days I had coming to get in touch with Joe," Jack told them. "It's a good thing he still owed me for that time I took a bullet for him in Mosul or I might have been swimming here."

"That's not exactly out of the realm of possibility for you SEAL's," Danny interjected. "And it might have been safer than flying Bama airlines."

"I'm no SEAL," Jack shook his head. "I'm not a big fan of the water."

"Sounds like someone else I know." Steve grinned at Danny. "Jack was with Delta Force. We were part of a joint strike team in Iraq. Two of us SEALs, two from The Unit."

"Speaking of the old team," Jack slid off his hat, ran a hand over his hair. "I was damn sorry to hear about Freddie. I'm glad you brought him home. I would have come for the funeral but I was ass deep in the sand at the time, in Afghanistan."

"Hammond told me." Steve folded his arms over his chest, Danny caught the flash of pain that raced across his partner's face. "Freddie would have understood."

Danny cleared his throat, intent on changing the subject from old wounds. "I still don't understand why we aren't standing around the luggage carousel at the airport like we usually do when my friends and family come to visit, Jack, waiting on your bags instead of the proverbial shoe to drop."

"You'll have to excuse my partner." Steve frowned yet again at Danny. Luckily for Danny he was immune to such scowls. "He can have a bit of a pessimistic streak when it comes to people from my past popping up."

"That's because when your people show up it's never for those nice relaxing vacations you invite them to the island for, and we tend to find ourselves in the crosshairs more often than not." Danny waved a hand of apology in Jack's general direction. "Forgive me for being a bad sport, but I'm not looking to be target practice or to have to break in a new partner."

"Funny you should mention that, because that's why I'm here." Jack dropped his ball cap on top of the duffel he'd dumped at his feet earlier, sliding his sunglasses on top of his head. He then took out a piece of folded paper from the back pocket of his jeans. "My partner was shot in down town L.A. about twenty four hours ago by a sniper from a three story building across the street from where I had parked my car."

"Damn, Jack," Steve said with a glance to Danny. "I'm sorry hear that, Man."

"Me too," Jack replied. "It came out of nowhere, and in the last place you'd expect to be targeted. I didn't sense a damn thing. One minute me and Mac are walking along, and the next we're on the ground taking fire."

"Was this the same kid Hammond said you hooked up with in the desert?" Steve asked. "The Army EOD specialist with the genius IQ?"

"Angus MacGyver." Jack told them. The gutted look that came across his face as he spoke his partner's name had Danny feeling slightly bad for giving the man such a hard time. It was a look of pain very similar to the one that had clouded Steve's features at the mention of Freddie's death. Now that Danny was looking closer it was easy to see the signs of fatigue and worry etched onto Dalton's face. Danny remembered there was another thing besides insanity and desperation that would make a man get on a chicken infested chopper with Frank Bama, the same reason Danny had done it that first time-a desire to protect his family.

"How is he?" Danny hoped it wasn't a stupid question, but he had a feeling even though he didn't know Jack that if the man's partner had been killed he wouldn't be standing before them looking as calm as he did.

"The bullet was a through and through, straight to the shoulder," Jack answered. "Mac's a little sore but still breathing. I left him in L.A. hoping that would be the safest place for him for the time being."

"Do you have any idea who the shooter was?" Steve asked.

"I'm afraid so." Jack handed the paper to Steve. "And so will you once you read this."

Steve unfolded the note, holding it so Danny could read the letter as well. The words were eligible but the lines made little sense to Danny.

"This can't be right, Jack," Steve said with a shake of his head obviously getting more from the cryptic spiel than Danny. "You know that better than anyone."

"Tag, Tombstone, you're it. Pass it on. Smooth Dawg's next." Danny looked from his partner to Jack. "What does that mean? And who is Tombstone and the A. Nobel who signed this?"

"Jack is Tombstone. Nobel was a member of our team, but is now nothing but a ghost," Steve answered, not really giving Danny the information he was after. "He's as dead as Freddie, Jack."

"The handwriting is the same, Steve." Jack pointed to the signature. "And he sent me a bullet."

"Just like our old game," Steve muttered, reading the letter again.

"Hello," Danny waved a hand over the note. "What game?"

"In Iraq," Steve met his gaze. "Tag, at least our version, was the way we switched off on shooting rotation. We drew lots when we first started working together. Nobel always took first shot, then tagged off to Jack, Jack to me, me to Freddie. Instead of passing the 'buck', we passed a bullet, which meant your number was up and on the next mission you covered everyone else's six, or dispensed of any specific mark."

"So, it was like a sniper's round robin?" Danny looked from the two men, noticing neither seemed thrilled to meet his gaze.

"It wasn't as frivolous as it seems," Steve defended. "Sometimes it was just easier to look at missions as team competition, especially when it was just the four of us going into an unknown situation."

"Coping mechanisms aside," Danny gestured to the letter again. "Why do you two seem to be in disagreement about this Nobel's physical state of well-being? You said this guy was as gone as Freddie Hart."

"He is," Steve replied, meeting Dalton's gaze. "Jack and I are the only two members of our team still alive."

"Then explain this note to me," Jack said, the first hints of heat in his tone. Danny had a feeling the man might just be as hardheaded as Steve. Besides one being amphibious and the other terrain based, Danny doubted there was much difference in SEAL and Delta personality traits. "Did you send it? Because the last time I checked only the four of us knew anything about our little game. I never told anyone about Tag, not even Mac. I'm guessing the same goes for Freddie. It's not exactly something an outsider can understand."

"How about you explain why you think there is even a chance it could be Nobel? Did you suddenly take an interest in the occult? Because as I said earlier, man, you better than anyone should know that your theory has a major hole in it."

"Is that some kind of pun?" Jack shook his head. "Because it's not funny, Steve."

"Is this you changing the subject to evade giving me a straight answer yet again, Jack?" Steve folded his arms over his chest, a very familiar look of anger shading his face. "Because it sounds like it to me."

"I didn't take the damn shot," Jack snapped. "Is that what you want to hear? I hesitated when you gave the go, and Nobel, Nobel must have sensed me because he moved and when I did take the shot, I couldn't say that it was a kill shot. Before I could re-sight all hell broke loose and exfil was calling us out."

"Only you did say it was a kill shot." Steve bit back, not sounding as surprised as Danny guessed he should have if the gut wrenched look on Jack's face was any indication about how long the man had been holding on to this particular confession.

"Freddie told you," Jack sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I should have counted on that."

"You looked me right in the eye and reported that the target was eliminated," Steve continued.

"Wait? Hold up. You ordered him to kill one of your team?" Danny asked, breaking the current staring contest going on between the two men. They didn't exactly have time for a showdown.

"Exactly." Jack looked at Danny, and then pointed a finger at Steve. "Now you see what I'm dealing with. Mister Follow My Orders without Question."

"Oh I know what you're dealing with." Danny kept staring at his partner. "Steven?"

"I didn't order him to kill Nobel. Those orders came from way higher up than me." Steve looked indignant. "I was in charge of making sure they were carried out. And in case you're wondering _why_ those orders were given, Danny, and as if Jack could forget, Nobel had betrayed not only his team, but his country and was selling us out to the highest bidder."

"I didn't forget." The anger from Jack's voice had fled, replaced by a tone laced with a feeling of which Danny had intimate knowledge. Regret. "I knew why the job had to be done, and I fully intended on doing it, but Jonas was our friend. We fought and bled with him. Putting a bullet in his T-zone even for an act of blatant treason wasn't exactly a walk in the park for me, damn it. It took me a second to get my nerve, and that second gave him what he needed to move just the slightest. I still shot him. I swear to you I did, but I can't guarantee that he couldn't have survived. Believe me, after what happened to Mac, I'd give anything to go back and do it all over again."

"Damn it, Jack." Steve slid a hand through his hair, looking at the note again. "Even if Nobel did live, why haven't we heard from him before now? That's been over seven years. Why would he shoot your partner?"

"That's what I was hoping you could tell me." Jack gestured to the letter. "I know he was pointing me to you, with the whole pass it on bit. And the threat to Mac if I didn't do what he wanted was more than clear. I didn't exactly take the time to rationally think things through, not when I didn't know what he might pull next. I have family to consider, and so do you."

"If this is some kind of revenge why not just kill your partner straight out?" Danny held up a hand when Jack gave him a scathing glower. "Not that I'd ever wish that on anyone but, especially considering I might be the next 'partner' in line, but why the cat and mouse game?"

"Again, that's what I was hoping Steve might be able to help fill in." Jack looked at Steve. "And I wanted to make sure you were alright. That your people were safe. After all, I'm responsible for this. I took every measure possible to get here before Nobel could have considering I know damn well he was delivering Chinese just hours after he shot Mac, including me flying a two seat Cessna loaded with tip tanks across the Pacific with your man Bama, in what was not the best sixteen hours of my piloting career."

Before Steve could respond his cell phone rang. He pointed a finger at Jack. "I'm still pissed at you for disobeying an order and lying to me about it."

"Pissed I can handle as long as we figure this thing out."

"Give me a minute." Steve removed his phone from his pocket and took a few steps back towards the car before answering the call with the typically no-nonsense, 'McGarrett'.

"So what was with the whole dynamite drawing at the end of the letter?" Danny asked Jack. "I mean who doodles a cartoon on a message of doom?"

"Nobel, AKA Jonas Carol, thought himself something of a budding entrepreneur," Jack explained. "He was always reading books and designing these crazy inventions which he swore was going to win him a Nobel Prize one day."

"Ah," Danny nodded. "Hence the codename."

"Right." Jack sighed. "Jonas specialized in creative ammunitions. He was brilliant, but crazy as hell."

"I'm still not connecting the cartoon though."

"Alfred Nobel invented dynamite," Steve filled in as he rejoined them. "Along with refining Nitro. He was the original Merchant of Death. Everybody knows that Danno."

"On the contrary, Steven, everybody does not possess that bit of trivia. In fact I'd go so far as to say I highly doubt that your average citizen cares to know who invented a material used to blow things up." Danny gestured to the note Steve still held in his hand. "Except maybe sociopaths who seemingly come back from the dead to shoot government agents in the middle of Los Angeles."

"Mac kind of idolizes the guy," Jack spoke up. "The original Nobel, not his namesake."

"And what was it Steve said your partner did in the Army again?" Danny snapped his fingers, feigning trying to remember what his partner had spoken about MacGyver. "He was an EOD specialist I believe. One of the people who disarm bombs and diffuse unexploded land mines for fun."

"It's not always fun," Jack spoke up, obviously missing Danny's insinuation.

"He's using your own words against you, Jack." Steve jerked his thumb at Danny. "He's a master at letting you make his point for him."

"I'm just saying this MacGyver doesn't exactly strike me as the average Joe citizen, hence him idolizing the inventor of dynamite."

"You're not wrong about that, Mac being unique that is." Jack said, a smile tugging at his mouth. "He's the smartest guy I've ever known, but the whole diffusing bombs thing is all about saving people's lives. Mac's one of the most peace-loving guys I know. He doesn't even use a gun."

"Speaking of keeping the peace, that was Chin on the phone." Steve looked to Danny as if Danny was somehow the impetus for the call. "He said the governor wants to know why we're now fifteen minutes late for the meeting she scheduled with us."

"And did you tell Chin to tell the lovely governor that we are late because you had to pick up a package that turned out to be your covert agent ex-teammate who came here to inform you that there's possibly a psycho shooter headed for Oahu?"

"No." Steve gestured to Jack. "Grab your gear, Tombstone, we'll figure all this out at The Palace."

"Then do I even want to know what you did tell Chin?" Danny turned to follow Steve, who was already headed for the car and the driver's seat, no doubt.

"I told Chin that you had a craving for Malasadas from Leonard's and there was a long-ass line." Steve smirked as he opened the door and popped the seat for Danny to crawl in the back. "I think the governor is expecting us to bring her some, along with a cup of decent coffee seeing as how Grover's brew has legs of its own."

Danny rolled his eyes at the ridiculous lie and the fact he was getting in the back seat of his own damn car so the two testosterone giants could ride up front. "I'm not buying this time."

"Sorry to interrupt guys, but are Malasadas food?" Jack asked tossing his duffel into the back with Danny, before climbing into the passenger's seat. "Because although I'm really sorry about interrupting your morning meeting with the brass by trying to save lives and all, I'm freaking starving."

"What?" Danny leaned up in between the two front seats as Steve got inside the car as well. "You mean Bama didn't serve you a fresh breakfast of poached eggs, or possibly a nice omelet?"

"Cute, Danno." Steve started the Camaro, pulling out with enough force to send Danny into the back once more.

"There was some questionable jerky, but now that you mention it, I think Bama had a chicken on board. There were feathers everywhere." Jack turned to look at Danny. "What kind of head case keeps a live chicken in their chopper?"

"That is a fine question, my friend." Danny kicked the back of Steve's seat, taking some satisfaction when his partner shot him a glare in the rearview mirror. "A very fine question, indeed."

RcJ

"Do you have any idea how fast this plane will go?"

Mac didn't need to look up from the paperclips he'd snagged from Hammond's office to know Bozer was still prowling through the cabin of the luxury jet snapping pictures with his phone to send to Riley later. Mac's first inclination was to respond that no matter what speed it was capable of it could not get them to Hawaii fast enough for him. Instead Mac stuck to the facts of what he knew of the Cessna Citation X. Sometimes it paid to have a partner who was not only into classic cars but dream planes as well.

"It has a top speed in the range of 700 miles per hour, approaching Mach 1."

"Damn." Bozer let out a long, low whistle. "That's like the speed of sound."

"Close." Mac glanced at his friend, who was posing for another selfie in front of the stocked bar.

"Everything in here is touch screen. Did you see the bathroom? It's like Cessna and Steve Jobs had a love child and named it 'iPlane'." Bozer dropped into the plush white leather seat in front of Mac. "This thing has Bruce Wayne written all over it."

"The only thing that makes this plane unique is its titanium-bladed engine and fully integrated avionics," Mac said. "You don't have to be a super hero to have one."

"But you do have to have thirty million dollars. I read somewhere that Rolls-Royce made that titanium engine you were yapping about." Bozer snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised if Alfred's not sitting shot gun in the co-pilot's seat. Maybe Hammond _is_ Batman."

"Whatever you want to believe, Boze." Mac went back to working on his paperclip, knowing his friend was chattering to keep himself distracted from the elephant in the room. The Laboratory results from Mac's blood test would not be ready for a few hours and Mac had made the decision to start their journey to Hawaii instead of pacing back and forth waiting for news that he could neither change nor receive any faster for his presence. Hammond would call when they were ready.

"How else would you explain how Hammond scored us this ride?"

"Oh, I don't know. He's a high ranking military official who has contacts in every government agency and has been known to dine regularly with the Joint Chiefs of Staff at the White House." Mac glanced at Bozer again. "The man is connected."

Bozer had taken two bottles of water from the bar and now handed one to Mac. "Maybe this is one of The President's personal planes?"

"Maybe you should remember our talk about digging around for specific details." Mac took the drink, sitting it on the table beside him. He'd loved to have taken some Tylenol for his pounding head but the physician Hammon had insisted Mac see cautioned against adding any other drugs to the mix until they knew if they were dealing with an unknown toxin.

"Right." Bozer took a long drink of the water and sighed. "We're not supposed to ask too many questions."

"Or in this case, we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth." Mac could care less who the plane belonged to. Most objects were only interesting to him in so much as what they could allow him to do. In this case, the ridiculously expensive and opulent plane could get him to answers about Jack's whereabouts all the sooner. "We'll be in San Diego in less than four hours. In Oahu not long after that."

"And the lab should have some answers for you by the time we touch down in California to refuel?"

Mac knew his short reprieve was about to end. Bozer would want to discuss what they had both been avoiding. "They should have been able to have done a preliminary panel by then, but their findings won't change our itinerary."

"Phoenix could probably get us results on the bullet that shot you if they knew to test it again for certain biological markers," Bozer brought up the point he'd made earlier as he watched one of Hammond's lab techs draw Mac's blood. "Maybe we should just head there. That way if you have been poisoned they can have their chemists get started on an antidote."

"I don't want to involve Phoenix in this when Hammond's people can handle it." Mac didn't bother pointing out that the best luck for an antidote of a manufactured toxin lay in the person who had masterminded it. "Besides the biological residue would probably be trace at most. It's most likely designed to activate on contact with the person without leaving evidence behind."

"Meaning you're covering for Jack."

"Jack didn't know about the biologic bullet." Mac raised his head, the paperclips temporarily forgotten with Bozer's tone. He knew for a fact that if Jack had even an inkling that Nobel had placed some kind of poison in the bullet, he would have not left Mac's side. "We don't even know that's what Nobel used."

Bozer sighed again and Mac knew he was pressing Phoenix because he was worried and Phoenix seemed like a safety net. They had top chemists and physicians, which if needed, would be Mac's last resort. His first priority was to find Jack and to figure out what Nobel was after.

"If you're not going to call Thornton, we could at least make contact with this McGarrett. By phone or have Riley…"

"No," Mac shook his head. "Jack went off the radar for a reason. He had to think Nobel was capable of monitoring communications. I'm not going to jeopardize whatever he's working."

"That's the problem, Mac. We don't even know what Jack is working, or even where Jack is and Jack doesn't know you might be sick." Bozer gestured to Mac's cell. "Isn't there some kind of message you can put out there, an emergency code you two use?"

There was but Mac wasn't going there until there was no other recourse. "It's not come to that point yet."

"So you really think Jack's in Hawaii?"

"I don't know." Mac wanted to believe his partner would be there when they arrived. He'd gone from pissed at Jack to worried about Jack, to really needing to see Jack since the meeting with Hammond. Mac didn't scare easily, but the thoughts of some foreign substance wreaking havoc with his system and possibly putting him out of commission before he could help his partner was terrifying. "It's the most logical place, but without knowing what that letter that Nobel sent to Jack said, I can't be sure."

"If I'd only seen more of the damn thing." Bozer recapped his drink, slamming it down on the glass table beside him.

"Easy with the touch screen table there, Tiger." Mac gave his friend a half smile when the other man looked chagrined at his unusual outburst. "Boze, we've only come this far because of the details you did pick up, and you pretty much gave a positive ID on Nobel, which brought Hammond on board with us and my plan."

"I think Hammond would have given you the freaking super hero plane without my weak testimony." Bozer leaned back in the seat. "In case you missed it, you're kind of a big deal."

"Now you sound like Jack." Mac brushed off the compliment, fiddling with his paperclips once more, although they weren't exactly working their usual magic, his mind too full of worse case scenarios.

"Can I ask you something?"

Mac narrowed his gaze at Bozer. "As long as it isn't about how I'm feeling. You were sitting right there when I told the doctor that besides the killer headache, one dizzy spell, and pain in my shoulder, I felt perfectly normal."

"It's not about your condition," Bozer promised. "It's about Hammond."

"What about Hammond?"

"More about his dog actually," Bozer hedged, looking suddenly uncomfortable.

"Is this the Cujo thing again?" Mac's mouth twitched remembering his friend's bizarre dog phobia. "Because I thought we agreed Stephen King movies didn't agree with you after you refused to ride in a car for weeks after watching Christine."

"It's not that," Bozer waved off Mac's teasing. "Does Hammond have Curie because he has PTSD?"

"I guess that would make sense." Mac was caught off guard by the question but covered with a quick shrug of his shoulders. His fingers tightened on the paper clips in his hand. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just curious, I mean I read a lot about PTSD while you were gone and when you were coming home I dug up some research on service dogs and how they help with the condition..."

"Bozer, I don't have PTSD." Mac tried to keep his breath even, the mention of the disorder bringing up things he'd rather not think about especially in light of this current possibly precarious situation. He knew his weaknesses as well as he knew his strengths. Being out of control, unable to effect events taking place around him was definitely one of his panic buttons. His emotions would get the best of him if he let them run wild.

"I didn't think that you did. I mean I did when you first came home, when you weren't really yourself and you wouldn't talk to me. It totally freaked me out because I didn't know how to help you, but then when that whole incident at the movie theater happened a few years back, I knew you'd be okay."

"The night at the movie theater convinced you I would be okay?" Mac asked incredulously.

Bozer nodded. "Don't get me wrong, it scared the crap out of me, but when it was over, I knew I didn't need to be looking up support groups at the VA or applying for your own service dog."

Mac could feel the paper clips digging into his skin now, the pain keeping his mind clear and focused on the present. He knew exactly what incident Bozer was talking about, but the fact that what transpired had somehow made Bozer believe Mac was anything but just another broken up combat vet was hard to grasp.

Mac had only been back from Afghanistan for a few weeks when they'd gone to see the latest Fast and Furious film with a couple of guys from Bozer's most current restaurant gig. Mac hadn't considered the scenario well enough. He knew now that the dark room, the loud sound effects was perfect priming for a flashback. The large crowd of people for opening night had only helped in making him hyper aware. Jack would convince him later that it was an honest mistake, one that a lot of vets make. After all, Mac had gone to hundreds of movies with the cinema-obsessed Bozer, albeit before he'd been through war, but in Mac's mind he'd put all that behind him, filed it away in a neat little section of his brain where he shoved all the other things he would no longer think about now that they were over. Only Mac was about to learn some things refused to be compartmentalized.

Surprisingly, it hadn't been the massive amount of gunfire on the screen that had set that night's events in motion. It was the loud popping of an inflated bag just behind them by some smartass kid and the ensuing scream by the teen's girlfriend that had Mac's heart leaping into his throat, sending his senses into immediate overdrive. Fight or flight had overruled all logical thinking, not needing Mac's acknowledgement or consent to issue a hostile takeover. Without thought Mac rolled out of his seat with all the practiced skills of a soldier evading sniper fire.

Suddenly bombs were going off all around him. Men were screaming. The acrid smell of smoke and burning flesh crawled up his nose, burned his throat. Mac could barely breathe as he belly-crawled from the darkened theater and into one of the narrow hallways of an emergency exit where he barricaded the door with a palette. Once he was outside with the all too real threat of death still looming, he burrowed himself between two trash receptacles, covering his head and praying for the shelling to stop.

Mac wasn't sure how long he'd sat there, flashes and images of a war he was no longer in bombarding his brain like actual grenades tossed by an enemy that was in actuality thousands of miles away, but he knew it was Jack's voice that had brought him back to reality. Jack's words, or more his presence, instantly quieted the battle, fought back the paralyzing fear. When Mac had finally uncovered his head and opened his eyes, his partner had been kneeled a few feet in front of him on the concrete.

'Hey, Buddy, what's going on?'

The question was ridiculous considering Mac was sitting amongst scattered popcorn and candy wrappers, his jeans soaked with soda and whatever other liquids that might have been running down the darkened alley behind the theater. It was an unusually cold California night in November, but Mac was breathing and sweating as if he'd just run a marathon. Still, he'd managed a similarly calm reply.

'Hey, Jack.'

"You didn't tell me you boys were coming to the movies. I might have tagged along if I'd known it was a Vin Diesel flick." Jack had flashed an easy grin, glancing over his shoulder where Mac could see Bozer hovering with an anxious-looking security guard. Thankfully none of his roommate's friends from work had joined in the search and rescue party.

'I'm sorry.' Mac hadn't been apologizing for the slight. After all, his had been a last minute invite when Bozer realized Mac was home on a rare Friday night. No. Mac was trying to apologize for the fact he was shaking so badly he could barely talk; his hands were flopping like fish out of water.

'It's alright.' Jack had slid out of his coat then, moving close enough to slip the jacket around Mac's trembling shoulders, as Mac only then realized he'd left his own coat in the theater and was just wearing one of his old MIT t-shirts. Jack ran his hands up and down Mac's arms, trying to bring warmth back into them. 'It's okay. We'll just catch it when it comes out on DVD. That way we can have a beer and some pizza instead of overpriced popcorn and watered down soda.'

Mac kept his eyes locked on Jack, nodding. 'At home.'

'You bet at home.' Jack had set back on his heels, gripped one of Mac's hands in both of his. 'What you say we get you up and head there now, brother? You can ride with me.'

'Okay.' Mac nodded again, biting his lip to keep the hot flood of tears he could feel threatening to spill down his cheeks at bay. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in the seat of Jack's car and forget this night ever happened. Jack pulled him to his feet, and although Mac's legs were weak they held him.

'How about you wait with Boze and our new friend, Lawrence and I'll pick you up back here.' Jack had glanced once more to the security guard who nodded his approval of the atypical curb-side service in the back alley instead of trekking through the hordes of people coming and going from the fourteen respective shows about to start or just finishing.

Mac had agreed but when Jack had started to move away, Mac had been unwilling or quite literally unable to let go of Jack's hand. His fingers had ignored the command Mac had silently given them, which was really no surprise since it seemed Mac's entire body had betrayed him by that point.

'I'll be right back.' Jack had reached up with his other hand and squeezed the back of Mac's neck, his fingers almost hot on Mac's cold, clammy skin. He'd lowered his voice, bringing his head so close to Mac that their foreheads almost touched. 'You're safe, Kiddo. I swear.'

'How about I get the car?' Bozer had moved forward, keeping himself a few steps behind Jack. He held out his hand, offering Mac one of his familiar grins as he gestured for the older agent to hand over the keys. 'Nice play, Mac. You know I've always wanted to get my hands on Jack's baby and when might I get another chance.'

'One scratch and you die, Bozer.' Mac watched with amazement as Jack moved forward and used his free hand to pull his keys out of the pocket of the jacket Mac was now huddled in. He winked at Mac. 'You're my witness he's been warned.'

'You never let anyone drive your car, Jack,' Mac had pointed out after Bozer rushed off and Jack had gone back to rubbing Mac's arms.

'Well, I guess this goes to prove there's really no limits to what I'll do for you, Brother.'

'What the hell is wrong with me?' Mac had asked when one of the interminable tears breached the damn Mac had so valiantly tried to hold together. It traitorously slid down his face.

'Nothing's wrong with you, Kid. You're just having a bad day. They'll get better.' Mac could vividly remember the look in Jack's eyes at that moment, the determination and steely grit that was usually reserved for the most important of missions. 'I promise you they'll get better.'

And they had.

Although that night had been miserable and Mac's embarrassment was paramount as he tiptoed around Bozer for days and never agreed to another meet up with his roommate's work pals, Mac found that he was able to let it go and move past it. Nightmares came and went, but he never had an episode like that one again, not even when he finally conceded to going to another movie with Jack a few months later, and then on his own with Nikki when she came into the picture.

"I knew then that Jack was better than any service dog."

"What?" Mac refocused on the words Bozer was saying, images of that terrible night fading in the light of the strange declaration, giving way once more to the ostentatious setting of the private plane. Mac's hand ached and he loosened his grip on the paperclip still clutched tightly in his palm.

"That night when I called him and he instantly found you and knew all the right things to say, or maybe it was just the fact that he showed up," Bozer looked at Mac, his eyes full of an emotion Mac couldn't quite pin down. Mac knew that whatever Bozer was feeling and trying to impart was coming from a place of good intentions, but he wanted to stop him from continuing somehow knowing that purposeful or not, Bozer's next words were going to somehow inflict pain. "I knew he'd scare away whatever ghosts you were battling; make you remember you were safe. Kind of like I imagine Curie does for the general."

Mac swallowed hard. "But now you're worried because Jack's not here."

"I'm worried for a lot of reasons, the first being we don't know if you've been poisoned by some sociopath sniper out for revenge, but yeah, I'm kind of concerned that Jack's disappeared and who knows if he's coming back. I mean what if Nobel might have already done something to him, and now you, you're not exactly acting like your old self again and I'm so not regulation spy ready yet..."

"Jack's fine. I'd know if he was dead." It took Mac saying it out loud to realize he'd had the same dread. It loomed like all those horrors from Afghanistan had that night so long ago, waiting to pounce on Mac when he least expected it. Bozer only had to speak it for that old belief that everyone Mac loved eventually disappeared or abandoned him to fully materialize.

"I know you believe that," Bozer continued, "and I want to believe that because I love the big guy, too, but as your friend I'm more worried about what might happen to you if he doesn't make it back."

Mac knew without Bozer saying it specifically that he wasn't just talking about the toxin that may have secreted its way into Mac's system through the bullet Nobel fired and was now doing untold damage, but about the other things that lay dormant in Mac's psyche, that had the same potential for destruction, dragons that Jack somehow kept at bay by as Bozer had put it 'showing up' when Mac needed him most.

As much as Mac might have wanted to, and he did desperately want to, he couldn't counter Bozer's concern with a legitimate assurance that even if the worst happened things would be okay. Not without lying. Because honestly, Mac didn't know what would happen if Jack no longer showed up. He'd gone too long without having to wonder about such things.

Since that first job in the desert, Mac had unwittingly come to depend on his partner's presence. Jack had easily breached his defenses to weave himself intricately into the fabric of Mac's life. Before Mac had consciously known what was taking place, Jack had asserted himself as a permanent facet, made himself invaluable much like a grounding wire in a circuit. It was true that an electrical current could be maintained without the function of a safety feature, Mac's dogged survival up to that point was proof of that, but one faulty connection, one unexpected surge of electricity, and without that grounding wire acting as a guard a guy could receive at best one hell of a shock, and at worst, spark a fire, an inferno that could burn down everything in its path.

So Mac said the only thing he could, the only thing he could bare to believe in the moment. "Jack's coming back, Bozer. We're bringing him home."

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

Guard Your Heart

A/N: Okay, let me preface this chapter with an apology in its lateness and a forewarning that it is packed with details. I hope that doesn't drag it down, and I promise more action is on the way. Thank you for all the kind reviews and inquiries and I hope to post more regularly now that everyone is together and we've got some back story out of the way! A huge thanks to my friend Mary, who tried to assure me all this worked and found ways to make it better. Thank you all for continuing to read! Enjoy!

RCJ

Jack could feel the man's eyes on him as he took the last Malasada out of the bag and put it on the napkin he'd placed on the borrowed desk.

"Jerry, are you sure you don't want this one?" Jack dusted his hands together, ridding his fingers of the excess sugar. He briefly wondered if Bozer could recreate the pastry. It reminded Jack of the funnel cakes he had as a kid at the fair back home in Texas.

The big guy shook his head, but Jack still begrudgingly slid the remaining pastry over to the other side of the desk. It was the least he could do considering he'd commandeered the man's space. Steve had relegated Jack to some kind of basement office of Five-0's headquarters, where they apparently kept their very own Riley hidden away. Only Jerry Ortega was a gentle giant of a man with long riotous hair and from what Jack had learned so far, somewhat of a conspiracy theorist.

"So you really don't think the government is into building super soldiers?" Jerry pulled the napkin closer to him. "This guy Nobel could be like a Winter Soldier experiment gone bad."

"As much as I would love to think becoming Captain America was possible, especially as the years keep creeping up on me, I'm going to have to say Nobel is just plain old flesh and blood with a heavy dose of crazy." Jack had, per Steve's instructions, told Jerry enough about the situation that the man could work his magic, digging up whatever he could find on Jonas.

"He might as well be a ghost for as much as I could bring up on him." Jerry ate the Malasada in one bite. "Which tells me the government had a hand in making him disappear."

"Don't be too hard on yourself." Jack leaned back in the chair and rubbed at his tired eyes. "I'm guessing Jonas's file was scrubbed completely. This was bound to be a needle in hay stack kind of query from the beginning."

"Sort of like trying to dig up stuff on whatever agency you're tied to." Jerry leaned forward, looking hungry for something besides pastry. The guy was relentless.

"I didn't say I was a spy, Man."

"You didn't have to." Jerry grinned as if Jack had let him in on the secret. "I have an innate sense about these things. I can smell a cover-up from a mile away. You, friend, are a walking, talking covert operation, or maybe a super soldier."

Jack smiled, confident in Steve's assurance that despite Jerry's eccentricities and wild notions, he was a trusted member of their team. Although, as frayed as Jack felt he wouldn't mind having some kind of bionic reserves. "How about we just focus on the issue at hand. One mystery at a time is enough to handle, don't you think?"

"I'm guessing DXS," Jerry quirked a brow, still on his rabbit trail. "Or at least whatever DXS reverted to after it was compromised."

Jack took great care in schooling his expression. So much for ultra-secret. He arched a brow and tapped the computer in front of Jerry. "Weren't you supposed to be checking all flights coming into the island for anyone matching Nobel's description while Steve and Danny met with the governor?"

Jerry grinned at Jack again before he resumed his search. Jack hoped Steve and Danny would be done soon, as he was growing weary of fending off Jerry's questions. The lack of sleep and proper food probably wasn't helping matters. Jack hadn't slept but a couple hours since leaving San Diego the day before, but what he wanted more than rest was to have some kind of information on Mac. He was tempted to ask Jerry to try and reach out to Riley. But without knowing where Noble was or how wired into Jack's life he might be, the risk was still too high.

"I got something," Jerry flipped the laptop around so Jack could see. "James Stoddart arrived in Oahu at ten this morning."

"And why exactly did that ping on your sweep?" Jack looked at the screen, expecting an image but only finding a passenger list.

Jerry shrugged. "Because James Stoddart won the Nobel Prize for Chemistry this year. He's also a 2007 winner of the Albert Einstein World Award of Science."

"There's actually an Albert Einstein World Award of Science?" Jack asked completely off topic, wondering if Mac had one tucked away in his treasure chest.

"There is," Jerry nodded. "When you explained about the Alfred Nobel connection and how Jonas considered himself a scientific wizard I decided to cross reference all recent winners of Nobel Prizes and other scientific awards with passenger lists coming into the islands. Guys like Nobel have huge egos, sometimes to their own detriment they outsmart themselves. This is the only hit I've gotten so far and the time frame matches."

"That's smart, Jerry." Jack could see Riley thinking of something similar. "Can you run facial recognition from security footage from the airport?"

"If we had a recent photograph yes, but unless you brought one or can access one I don't think that's an option." Jerry tapped a few more keys on the computer. "Besides if this guy is as cunning and thorough as I think he is, he's probably going to avoid the cameras."

"Nobel is nothing if not thorough." Jack pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes, hoping to clear some of the fuzziness. A part of Jack had wished he was wrong about Nobel coming to Hawaii. Sometimes it sucked to be right.

"If you need more proof, James Stoddart's flight originated in Los Angeles." Jerry looked at Jack. "That's where you're from?"

"Yeah." Jack stood, paced the floor. "We need to let Steve know that Nobel's more than likely here. He needs to have your team and any family under watch."

"Two of our team is off island at a conference. Grover and Kono won't be back for a few days. You met Chin. He's not going to want a babysitter, and I barely leave the dungeon here."

"Sometimes it doesn't matter what the people we care about want, only that they're safe." Jack hadn't meant for the words to come out with quite as much edge, but his temper often grew shorter when he was stressed. And the fact Jerry's words struck a nerve didn't help.

"That sounds like the same kind of reasoning the government uses to keep average Joe Citizen in the dark." It was said without any malice. In fact Jerry propped his chin on his hand, looking as if he was used to countering such statements on a regular basis.

Jack narrowed his eyes at the computer guru, not feeling particularly in the mood for theoretical debate, or to have his line of thinking challenged. Jack happened to agree with a lot of the government's discrepancy in sharing information. "Ignorance is bliss for a reason."

"I wonder if your partner would agree with that." Jerry gave another unimposing shrug. "I'm guessing probably not."

"You don't know anything about my partner, Jerry."

"Actually I do." Jerry hit a few more keys and flipped the computer around so Jack could see it again. A familiar headshot from Phoenix's 'official' website stared back at Jack. "Angus MacGyver. Top of his class at MIT. Finished the program at a freakish accelerated rate only to sign on with the Army where he made himself invaluable as an EOD, specializing in disarming the most complicated of bombs including chemical and biological ordnance. I'm guessing that's where you two met. He was recruited by the CIA, FBI and the Joint Forces." Jerry shot Jack another knowing grin. "But he went with DXS-right? I know he's a spy, like you."

Jack folded his arms over his chest, taking a deep breath to calm his frazzled emotions. "If you did all that extensive research while I was eating my breakfast then you should have found out that Mac works at The Phoenix Foundation, a brilliant think tank where he does scientist-y things."

"And what did you say you did at this Phoenix?" Jerry asked, mimicking Jack's stance as he leaned back in his chair. "You don't exactly strike me as the science type."

Jack was spared an answer by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. It was Chin.

"Hey, Steve needs you up top." The police Lieutenant gestured for Jerry to stay where he was when the big man started to get up. "I was talking to Jack."

"But I have information…" Jerry started.

"Which I will be glad to relay," Jack smirked at the computer hacker, glad to finally feel as if he was getting the upper hand. He tapped the computer. "Besides you're going to be busy checking the car rentals at the airport."

"I am?" Jerry asked.

"You are." Jack started for the door. "See if our buddy James Stoddart rented a vehicle. If so, we should be able to track it. You probably want to search the rental properties in this area as well. I'm guessing Nobel would choose an out of the way location instead of a hotel or motel. If that's true, he might have used traditional means like rental agencies or realtors to get one. I have a feeling he's been planning this for a while."

"That makes sense." Jerry gave Jack a look of surprise.

"You're starting to see why the think tank recruited me, right?" Jack touched his temple as he moved from the desk to follow Chin. "I'm a man of many talents. Pretty doesn't always equate dumb."

"I still think you're a spy," Jerry grumbled as he once again began pecking away at the keyboard.

" _Are_ you a spy?" Chin asked Jack as they moved up the stairway side by side. "Steve didn't really get a chance to explain what it was you did exactly."

Jack looked at Chin, sizing the other man up. "I work for a think tank."

Chin ran his gaze over Jack. "Right."

Jack snorted. "Dude, I am so a spy."

Chin shook his head and laughed in a way that told Jack he could have probably told Chin he was one of Jerry's government altered super soldiers from Area 53 and he'd been cool with it. "Knowing some of Steve's other long lost buddies, that doesn't surprise me."

"Just don't tell your pal, Jerry. I'm afraid I might end up on one of his conspiracy blogs with some kind of profile that makes me look like a blend of Jason Bourne and Steve Rogers."

"Jerry's an acquired taste, but trust me when I say he's harmless, and helpful."

"I believe you on both accounts." Steve had filled Jack in on his team on their drive in. If Steve trusted them, Jack could as well. "Jerry already found our first tangible lead."

"Make that our second lead." Chin gestured for Jack to precede him down the hall to their glassed in central command. "I think Steve found out more than he wanted to from our talk with Governor Mahoe. He's putting surveillance teams on mine and Danny's families."

"That can't be good." Jack pushed through the doors, finding Steve and Danny in front of the massive computerized table that Jack was certain would send Riley over the moon. Neither of them looked up, but continued to gaze at the bank of screens in front of them. When Jack got good view at the land region displayed he could understand why Steve was scowling. "Is that Matarengo?"

Steve glanced at Jack and nodded, then looking to Chin he added. "It's a remote village not far from Las Vueltas."

"Las Vueltas is the city that the governor said Miguel Quesan is coming from," Chin said.

"Who's Miguel Quesan?" Jack looked from Chin to Steve. He instantly recognized the grim foreboding in his former teammate's intense gaze. "And why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like your answer."

"Until recently Miguel Quesan was the self-appointed president, AKA crazy dictator, of Las Vueltas, a small country or should I say 'providence'," Danny air quoted, "near El Salvador."

"That area has a lot of 'providences'" Jack returned the air quote. "Which is short hand for strong holds of mercenaries and gangs who have delusions of grandeur. They usually work as outposts for much bigger bad asses."

"Long story short," Steve jumped in. "Quesan is coming to Hawaii as part of a deal with ICE and the DEA. He's apparently going to be turning himself over to our government in hopes he'll be their key informant for taking down the drug pipeline from El Salvador, Nicaragua and Venezuela."

Jack looked at Steve. "I'm guessing the history lesson means you think Quesan has ties to our boy Nobel."

"I know he does." Steve tapped a few places on the table and the scowling face of who Jack assumed was Miguel Quesan appeared on the screen. "Quesan made his way up the ranks in typical Guerilla warfare, dictator fashion. Monterango was one of his first strongholds he used to stockpile weapons for the small army he was hoping to amass, along with the drugs he was using to bankroll his rag tag outfit. There's no way he didn't have a hand in recruiting Nobel all those years ago."

"This information come from the important meeting you had with the Governor?" Jack asked.

Steven nodded. "Guess who she wants as protection detail for Quesan's exchange?"

"Your team," Jack said, his gut clenching at the implications. "Damn."

"Quesan's being brought here by military escort, all very hush hush," Danny said. "They're handing off to the DEA and Federal Marshals in the next forty-eight hours at a yet undisclosed location."

Jack sighed, rubbing at the taught muscles that were knotted at the base of his neck. "You're right, that can't be a coincidence. Nobel has to be here because of Quesan."

"It sounds like the sooner we find your old friend the better," Chin said what they were all thinking.

"The problem being we don't even know for sure he's on the island," Danny interjected.

"Actually we do," Jack told them. "Jerry found a flight holding one of the possible aliases he believed Nobel might be using. It landed early this morning in Oahu. I have him checking car rentals in the area."

"We need a picture of Nobel," Steve said. "I'm going to see if Joe can get his hands on one and send it to us. Me, you and Danny will head for the airport, start canvasing the taxi services that might have had people running the airport route this morning."

"What do you want me to do?" Chin asked.

"See if you can reach out to the DEA and Marshals, maybe even ICE. It's possible they'll share some more specific information now that Governor Mahoe has briefed us."

Chin nodded. "I take it we're not mentioning the threat of Nobel being in the area just yet?"

"Not until we have some more intel to share." Steve shook his head. "They're not going to take us seriously considering the magnitude of the operation and what they're hoping Quesan will give them."

"We need to know Nobel's agenda." Jack said as Chin moved to his office and Steve and Danny started for the door. He was already frustrated with the cat and mouse game, and the new pieces of information putting even more people on the playing board was dizzying. "Why bring me here? Why elaborate this whole reunion and what does it have to do with some crack pot despot turning traitor to his people?"

"The quicker we find Jonas the sooner we can question him." Steve slapped Jack on the back as he passed.

"And by question he means the sooner you two can dangle your old pal off a ten story building," Danny added following his partner and coming alongside Jack. "While I try to be the voice of reason, which of course will go unheard and unheeded. I could give you the script but I have a feeling you already know it by heart."

"Dangling Jonas from a building pales in comparison to what I have in mind." Jack would slowly take Nobel a part for shooting MacGyver, damn the consequences. Just thinking of the pain he was going to inflict on the man gave Jack a fresh rush of adrenaline that convinced his body to keep moving through his exhaustion.

"Although I'm sure your CIA interrogation methods are far more effective than Steven's bash in the head and blow away the knee caps kind of tactics," Danny said as they made their way into the bright sunshine. "You should still keep in mind that it's hard for the bad guys to give us answers if they're not breathing."

"How would you feel if he shot your partner?" Jack cut his gaze to Williams, glancing past the detective to scan the buildings beyond them. Knowing Nobel was on island gave Jack a keen awareness to their vulnerability.

"Half the time _I_ want to shoot my partner," Danny gestured to where Steve was moving towards the black Camaro.

"I heard that," Steve called over his shoulder without stopping.

"Because you have the ears of a bat," Danny shouted back, before raising a brow at Jack. "Tell me in all that time you crawled around in the desert with him, you haven't thought about it."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jack couldn't help but to give the detective a half smile. His and Steve's relationship hadn't always been smooth. Steve was a SEAL after all, and Jack being Delta instantly set them up for a healthy and sometimes intense rivalry. "He does have a way of pushing a person's buttons."

"I also heard that." Steve opened the car door and regarded the two men over the roof. "You both can hitch a ride to the airport for all I care."

"And miss out on seeing your old pal's reaction to how you handle mid-day traffic on the island?" Danny opened the driver's side door and willingly climbed in the back this time. "Never."

"You forget I've ridden in a Lightweight tactical All-Terrain Vehicle with the man." Jack got into the front seat and shut the door, shooting Steve a grin. "Not to mention a Bradford tank and numerous choppers. Besides did you forget how I got to this island via our old friend Bama. I don't think anything can phase me at this point."

"We'll see," Danny warned, patting the back of Jack's seat when Steve turned on the siren and flashing lights. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

RCJ

In the end it wasn't Steven's insane driving that did Jack in, but the fact they had absolutely no luck despite the hours of footwork they did canvasing the airport with the picture of Jonas that Joe had been able to get to them. A check in with Chin, had added to Jack's misery. Jerry had drawn a blank too, and no one in the DEA or any other government agency seemed willing to offer any more details about the meet up. As it was Jack was feeling not only the hours he'd logged without sleep and proper food, but the quickly passing time to the proposed DEA operation set for a still undisclosed hour and place.

"How you holding up?" Steve was sitting across from Jack at a picnic table near a food truck owned by one of Steve and Danny's informants. Steve had promised that the food was legit and cautioned Jack to look past any first impressions he might have about Kamekona's culinary prowess, even though Danny explained to Jack that the big Hawaiian had used to sell shaved ice and run guns out of the same truck that now bore his likeness and proclaimed to serve the best shrimp on the islands.

"I could use about twenty hours of sleep but besides that, I'm okay." Jack rubbed a hand over his face, realizing he was also in desperate need of a shower and shave. He'd take a phone conversation with a certain genius over any of it.

"You don't look okay." Steve picked up one of the bottles of water he'd grabbed from the big bucket of ice by Kamekona's order window and passed it to Jack.

"So I might be kicking myself a thousand ways to Sunday for not killing Jonas when I had the chance but hey, what's a little more guilt in the grand scheme of things." Jack took the water and opened it. He hesitated before taking a drink. "This is all my damn fault. Mac getting shot, and now whatever Jonas is trying to pull here in your neck of the woods."

"You're not responsible for what Jonas is doing, Jack."

"Says the guy who ordered me to take him out seven years ago." Jack took a long drink to keep from having to see the 'I told you so' look in Steve's gaze. When he finished half the bottle and Steve was still staring at him, he recapped the drink and faced his old friend trying to remember what Mac had once told him about apologies being a good starting point for hard conversations. "I'm sorry about that by the way. If I haven't said so, which I know I haven't. I shouldn't have lied to you and I shouldn't have put Freddie in a position where he had to cover for me."

"No, you shouldn't have, but I should have talked to you about the directive instead of following Hammond's lead to keep the kill order under wraps until we located Jonas." Steve took a drink of his own water. "And just so we're clear, Freddie didn't tell me. He didn't have to. I knew the moment you reported back. Hell, maybe I knew all along you wouldn't go through with it, and that's why I didn't insist on doing it myself."

"Come on, now," Jack grinned, hoping to lighten the mood. They had enough current problems without dragging the past into them. "We both know why Hammond tagged me for the job. I'm the far better shot. Always have been."

"Keep telling yourself that, Tombstone." Steve snorted. He eyed Jack for a moment. "You've changed, Man."

"I could say the same for you, Smooth Dawg." Jack hadn't talked to Steve in years. He felt a pang of regret for letting so much time pass, even if rationally he understood it to be a protection device of sorts. As good as it was to see Steve, even under the circumstance, there was also a heaviness, a cloud of bad memories that Jack would just as soon not revisit. The incident with Jonas just topped the list. "I never thought you'd be a cop. I figured you for a lifetime Navy man. And now here you are. Practically domesticated."

"I don't think I'm the only one that's settled down." Steve smirked. "A small covert operation based stateside was never in your grand plan."

"Hey, I'll have you know I still live a very exciting life." Jack wasn't about to admit that Steve wasn't the only one who had ended up in an unlikely place. Jack had always thought he'd retire from the military like his old man ,or maybe ride it out with the CIA. Meeting Mac had changed all that. "The world is my oyster. One day I wake up in Switzerland, the next Tel Aviv, and I still speak fluent super model, a language that despite your chiseled jawline, you never quite got."

"No more lone wolf, though." Steve ignored the jabs, gesturing to Jack's head with a smirk. "And there's the new haircut, which is ridiculous by the way. Did one of your super models suggest that look?"

"Ha ha." Jack snorted, picking up on the first part of Steve's observation. "Wait. Did you call me a lone wolf?"

"Those were Hammond's words, not mine, Pal." Steve leaned forward on his elbows. "I always thought he put you on our team as a way of giving you some bearings."

"And here after all these years I thought it was some kind of punishment." Jack took another drink of water, hoping to wash down the large lump that was lodged in the back of his throat. "You know he's the one who put me and MacGyver together. Hammond played it off like I was the most capable to watch the kid's six, but later I came to realize he was maybe trying to give me something to anchor me, maybe a reason to keep my head in the game."

"Ohana can definitely do both those things." Steve peeled at the paper on his water bottle.

"That means family, right?" Jack asked and Steve nodded. Mac was most definitely family. "This may sound crazy, but my partnership with that kid is the most functional relationship I've managed to have."

"If it's crazy, I'm right there with you. Danno and I are practically married." Steve glanced to where Danny was claiming their order at the shrimp truck. He gave a thoughtful smile. "It's not all bad, though. He's got a couple of great kids, probably the closest I'll come to having any. His daughter seems like my own."

"Mac has a Bozer." Jack shook his head, thinking about the unlikely places they'd each landed, the people they'd chosen to tie themselves to. "I've kind of gotten attached."

"I have no idea what a Bozer is, but here's to family." Steve lifted his water bottle in a toast.

Jack bumped his against it. "To Ohana."

"I'm glad you two are having such a good time, toasting one another." Danny grumbled as he made it to their table having waited at the window for their orders. "Was there some kind of breakthrough in the case while I was playing waiter? Did you manage some kind of lead that evaded us this whole morning? Because from where I'm sitting or _standing_ with this very large, heavy tray, loaded with food that I again paid for, we don't have a lot to celebrate."

"We're just catching up, Danno." Steve grabbed his plate of shrimp. "We wouldn't do any of the hard work without you, buddy."

"That I believe." Danny claimed the seat next to Steve, with another grumble beneath his breath. He slid Jack's food across to him, before handing Steve a generous stack of napkins with a huff. "I know your strengths and I'm guessing your buddy here, _Delta Dalton,_ also has muscle where he should have properly firing synapses."

"Did he just call us meat heads?" Jack wasn't too offended, more interested in the amazing smell coming from his plate than Danny's insult.

"Insulting is his love language." Steve dug into his food. "At least that's how our therapist explains it."

"I think he may just call them as he sees them." The man who spoke had come up quickly to their table, sliding onto the bench seat next to Jack before any of them could react to the intrusion, like a friend they were expecting, only Jack felt the familiar unwelcome intrusion of a blade press against his lower left side. "Long time no see, Tombstone."

Jack saw recognition race across Steve's face despite the hat and sunglasses the stranger was wearing. His hands moved lighting quick to the weapon at his side. Jack grunted as Nobel increased pressure on the unseen knife.

"Keep your hands on the table, Commander. You two Detective Williams or I will run this pig sticker I have at Jack's back through the good Captain. You know how well trained I am in this technique, Smooth Dawg. If my memory serves, you taught it to me. One swift thrust and I tear a hole in his kidney maybe hit a Suprarenal vein if I'm lucky, and he's bleeding out way before any ambulance gets here."

Steve met and held Jack's gaze, unspoken words passing lighting fast. A part of Jack wanted to tell Steve to go ahead and waste the bastard, but then again, he wasn't ready to die, and Nobel no longer warranted a quick death. It would be slow and painful if Jack had any say in the matter.

"If that's not motive enough then check out the nice red dot on your partner's shirt." Nobel chuckled as both Steve and Danny located the laser sight bright against the detective's white dress shirt. Jack winced, hating like hell that he kept endangering innocent people. From the angle and lack of buildings in the area, he guessed the shooter was in one of the treed areas. He had not anticipated Jonas having help.

"A guy like me can have a partner too." Nobel seemed to read Jack's mind. "And though I'm really not that invested in mine, I'm guessing the seven years you've endured the detective's company has made you somewhat partial to him."

"I will kill you, Jonas," Steve growled.

"Not if I do it first." Jack understood well enough that he nor Steve were in any position to currently see any such threats to fruition, but it felt good to say it just the same.

"You had your chance, Jackie Boy." Jonas increased the pressure on the blade. Jack grit his teeth to keep from letting the pain register on his face as the knife slid through his shirt and breached skin. "But we all know you were too much of a coward to finish the job."

"He showed you mercy," Steve growled. Jack appreciated his old friend defending him but he could feel blood trickling down his side now, dripping onto the top of his pants. "Mercy you didn't deserve because you betrayed us and your country. This is how you pay him back?"

"Mercy?" Jonas's voice vibrated with barely controlled rage. "The only thing Jack did was ruin my retirement plan and deny me a swift death. Something you had a hand end, I might add. I ended up in a godforsaken prison run by unforgiving men who believed I had set them up, that I was some part of an intricate plan to learn their location and destroy their outpost, which you did, by the way, making me look even more complicit with Jack's shoulder shot."

"It sounds like you got what you deserved." Danny spoke for the first time. "Karma and all."

"You don't get to talk, Detective Williams. You're just collateral damage. Ask the SEAL and Delta boys what that makes you worth in the big picture?"

"What the hell do you want, Jonas?" Jack kept his voice even, working hard to force his emotions in check. "The gang's all here. Don't keep us hanging in suspense any longer."

"What I want?" Jonas shook his head. "What I _wanted_ was to see my life's work put to use. What I wanted was to be paid back for what the Army cost me. Seeing as how there's no chance of that now, I'll take punishing the people who ruined it for me. Starting with Miguel Quesan."

"Who?" Steve asked.

"Come on, Lieutenant Commander. We both know your lovely governor filled you in on the DEA's meet up with a Delta escort. She might not have shared all the details, as I haven't even been privy to those yet, but Quesan's coming here to sing like a canary, willingly walking into our government's cage to keep from being roasted by his own people. I can't let that happen."

"So you came here to kill Quesan?" Steve, glanced to Danny, who rolled his eyes.

"No. I brought Jack here to kill Quesan."

"That's not going to happen." Jack looked from Steve to Jonas. "Do your own damn dirty work."

"So this is all about revenge?" Steve raised a brow. "That's your big plan? It's not smart on your part, and despite everything, you were always smart. If you made it out of that prison, you should have disappeared for good."

"Believe it or not killing Quesan is payment for my freedom. I'm still on a bit of a short leash, and it took some brilliant strategy on my part to set this whole plan in motion. Getting Jack to do the dirty work as he called it, is just icing on a very sweet cake."

"Why not just do it yourself?" Danny asked, earning him glares from both Steve and Jonas. "I hear you were some hotshot sniper."

"Because if these boys didn't tell you, I ruined my hands serving my country. Having no fingertips makes it impossible to finesse a trigger, unlike a blade, which only needs power and close proximity. " Nobel demonstrated by shoving the knife through a few more layers of Jack's skin. When Jack couldn't stop the pain gasped that escaped him, Danny raised his hands in surrender. Jack let out a string of four lettered words and tried to stay as still as possible despite having an inch of steel buried in his side.

"I get the point," Danny said, then sheepishly added, "No pun intended."

"This job takes someone with a special skill set," Nobel backed off the pressure but Jack could still feel each beat of his heart thrum through the pain in his back, nerve endings demanding he pay attention. "And as much as I hate to admit it, even in my hay day, before the accident, I didn't have the range that old Jack here did. He was our top shooter. You wouldn't believe how many men he's killed. He's the one they should have called Merchant of Death."

"Your old injuries didn't keep you from shooting my partner." Jack looked down at the table, where his fingers were clenched against the wood slats. Jonas had his free hand fisted as well. He was wearing leather gloves in the Hawaiian heat. Jack realized he hadn't completely considered all the ramifications of Nobel's old injury and how it might figure into the equation of Mac's shooting.

"I didn't shoot your partner." Nobel revealed, looking at Jack. Even through the darkened lenses Jack saw a glint in his old friend's green eyes. "I was at ground zero, by the street light near your nice car where I could see your face when it happened. You looked like someone had just put down that old horse you loved so much, what was its name, Damascus?"

"Jack." Steve's voice held an unspoken order to stand down. Nobel was trying to push Jack's buttons, a task made much easier by the surge of adrenaline coursing through Jack's system, pain activating his fight or flight reaction.

Jack forced a grin, his ability to compartmentalize physical pain almost as impressive as Mac's talent for doing so with emotional trauma. "For a man who wants me to do him a favor, you sure seem hell bent on staying on my bad side, Jonas."

Nobel scoffed. "I don't need to be nice to you, Jack. I've already made sure you're going to do whatever I want you to do."

"By shooting my partner? Holding a knife on me?" Jack's smile turned feral. He jerked his head to the tree line. "You might as well finish me now and have your partner shoot Quesan?"

"While given the right gun and setting it was easy enough to coach a semi-decent shooter through a short distance shot, it is not so simple to teach them all the intricacies of being an accomplished sniper. I'm quite sure Quesan is going to be exchanged in a location that requires the shooter be at a great distance and have exact precision despite measures that will be taken to cover the target. They'll be trained guards. With no room for error or a do-over. I need you Tombstone. So what do you say? Have we got ourselves a deal?"

"I can tell you what I think of your deal in two words…" Jack started, one of his favorite four-lettered words primed and ready on the tip of his tongue.

"Careful," Jonas hedged. "Before you answer let me tell you that MacGyver's life hangs in the balance."

Jack no longer felt the pain in his side, the increased beating of his heart overpowering every other sensation. "Mac is safe."

"Wrong." When Nobel grinned Jack glanced once more at the glaring red laser on Danny's shirt. If Nobel had one partner it was possible he had another. Jack had left his family unprotected on the premise that Jonas was a lone wolf. After all, as Steve pointed out, it took one to know one. Only Jack hadn't accounted for the fact that he was now a member of a pack, and that if an old dog like him could change, then maybe Jonas could adapt as well. "You're partner is dying."

"That's not…" Jack started, about to insist that no such thing was possible when the truth hit him. There was no other shooter. Nobel didn't need one. Mac had been in jeopardy from the moment he was shot two days ago. Jack flashed a panicked look at Steve. The realization seemed to catch them at the same time if the expression on his former teammate's face was any indication. Jack jerked his head back to Jonas, not caring if the knife slid a little deeper. He was beyond feeling anything but rage. "You sonofabitch. You didn't."

"Oh but I did, Tombstone. It's ironically beautiful if you think about it. You have no idea the torture I endured when you left me there in that village wounded, patting yourself on the back that you'd spared me. The things they did to extract information I didn't have…" Nobel's voice dropped, and for a moment Jack almost ached for his old friend. The buddy he'd laughed with, trained with, trusted enough to open up to about his past. Jack might not have known specific details but he could see the traces of agony etched in Jonas's scarred face, the premature gray hair, the lanky body that spoke more to malnutrition and abuse than any lithe fitness. Clothes couldn't hide such atrocities, not when one knew what to look for.

But all of Jack's momentary empathy faded as Jonas regained his composure, right along with his desire to rub salt in Jack's wound. "I instructed my friend to shoot your brilliant partner using a gun I knew you'd recognize, with one of my new and improved biologic bullets, the very kind that got me put on our government's hit list in the first place. The poison it contained in its casing is slow-working, but relentless. Sort of like me. It will systematically make its way through the body, shutting down necessary functions along the way. Believe me, Jack, when I tell you MacGyver is going to suffer. Oh, how he is going to suffer."

Jack's grandfather had once told him that love was nothing more than a willingness to suffer. Jack was seventeen and had just put down his horse. Damascus was old and had endured enough hardships in life that Jack had vowed not to let him linger in pain, even if it meant his own heart was shattered in the process. Jack understood his grandfather's words, accepted them as truth. Choosing to leave your heart vulnerable always came at a cost. A high one, but worth it.

Just as Jack accepted that responsibility he also clung to the idea that it was his job to protect those he loved from any pain. Jack loved his country, and he had suffered so others didn't have to. Jack loved Mac, willingly knowing he might suffer because of it, but he had never signed on for or agreed to let Mac suffer in turn. In fact, Jack's priority mission had always been just the opposite. Like Damascus, Mac had already had more than his fair share of bad breaks in his short life. Jack had vowed to protect him from any others.

"I'll do whatever you say, just make this go away."

"Jack." Steve's voice held a different kind of warning this time, one that spoke to things like not dealing with terrorists and the inability to trust anything Nobel was saying or proposing. There was also the fact that Jack was a government agent and killing a Federal protected witness would be frowned upon even if Jack's motives were self-sacrificing. Thornton would not be able to help him. It would be the ruination of his career, and most likely the end of his freedom. Not to mention that taking a life, even a bad one, would steal just another little piece of Jack's soul. But he'd do it, if that was what it took to spare Mac.

"Shut up, MacGarret," Noble snarled. "Before I add your partner to the equation. The bullet chambered with his name on it has the same kind of toxin. One so intricate and precise in design that no chemist, however brilliant is going to untangle the exact proportions needed for a proper antidote before those poisoned from it expire. I made sure of that. We'll see how quick you are to take your high and moral road when it's your best friend writhing in pain, begging you to put a bullet in his brain."

"Just give me the damn antidote and I'll do it." Jack held Steve's gaze, willing his old friend to just go along, to let him do what had to be done. It wasn't like Quesan was some innocent. The man was a drug lord and had probably murdered and maimed God only knew how many people. Jack had killed many men for much less, and it wasn't like they had another choice.

"You'll have the antidote in your possession after the job is done. I want to be there. My associate as well. He'll want proof, after all." Jonas grinned. "This isn't all about me, after all."

"We won't even know the location until right before the exchange," Steve said. "Not even the time when it will occur."

"Then I guess you better do some research" Nobel used his free hand to reach into his jacket pocket, pulling out a cell phone which he tossed on the table. "I'll be in touch with more details. And don't think about moving from this table to come after me because Detective Williams will not be out of danger until…"

The shift in Steve's demeanor was almost imperceptible. Jack had barely caught it in time. His old teammate must have realized the moment Nobel would have adjusted his hold on the blade at Jack's side, just a fraction to enable him to deliver the phone. It offered a window for action, a possible chance to reclaim the upper hand, and Steve McGarrett was not one to _not_ take advantage of such chance.

Jack rolled right, just as Steve took him and Danny backward off the bench with a clothes-line sweep of his arm. A shooting burn raced up Jack's side, as Jonas cursed and bolted to the left. A bullet struck the table.

Another round from the sniper kicked sand up just a few inches by Jack's head and he scrambled to get behind the protection of their table, which Steve had flipped to use as cover. Another shot struck one of the legs, sending chunks of wood flying. People screamed. It was like the night in Los Angeles all over again as those enjoying their quiet lunch in the park in front of Kamekona's realized what was happening. Jack heard the roar of a motorcycle engine above the melee.

"He's in the tree-line, six o'clock," Steve yelled, gripping his gun but unable to take a chance of breaking from cover as another bullet splintered more table.

"Thank you for that enlightening information, Mr. Helpful," Danny shouted back. "But unless you want to fire through a crowd of scrambling tourists and possible passerby's in the park I don't see how it's going to do us one bit of good."

"Where's Nobel?" Steve turned his blazing gaze on Jack as another round whacked the ground beyond them.

"Gone." Jack had one arm wrapped around his side, his gun in hand in the other. He jutted his chin towards the parking lot. "I heard a motorcycle fire up, but didn't get a look at it."

"Damn it." Steve's curse preceded a wail of sirens in the distance. Someone had called the police.

Jack became aware of the sound of his own harsh breathing as quiet fell sudden around them. He shared a look with Steve who gave a barely perceptible nod before popping his head over the top of the table as Jack peeked out from the side to cover him. Silence remained, and Jack let out a sigh of relief as no shots came in and a quick scan of the area revealed no bodies scattered in the wake of the shooting spree. At least no one else had gotten hurt because of him. All the tables were deserted. Kamekona's food truck appeared untouched. Even the big Hawaiian had popped up in the open window, shaking his head in exasperation as if he wasn't as shell-shocked as he should have been.

"You think we're clear?" Danny asked.

"I think the shooter and Nobel are long gone." Steve stood, gesturing to the patrol cars that had just rolled in with a squeal of tires and breaks. "I'll get a team to the trees and see if they might have left anything behind."

"Are you alright?" Danny shifted to face Jack, his gaze going to the blood soaking Jack's gray shirt.

"A couple of butterfly bandages, maybe some Duct tape, and I'll be fine." Jack holstered his gun and pressed a hand over the puncture wound in his side. Jonas had delivered a decent slice over his ribs as well when Steve made his move, but it was more painful and messy than deadly, not surprising since Jonas obviously needed them alive for his plan to work.

Danny stood, offering a hand to Jack along with a roll of his eyes. "Spoken like a true Neanderthal from Steve's tribe."

Jack accepted the hand up, wavering just a bit when he was vertical. He nodded to Nobel's phone that was now near Danny's feet. "Can you grab that?"

Danny let go of Jack and picked up the phone, dusting the sand from its cover before sliding it into his pocket just as Steve jogged back over to them. "I've got a patrol going in and put a bird in the air, but I doubt we're going to find anything."

"I need to call Mac," Jack said with a nod. "He has no idea he's been poisoned."

"Not to be Devil's Advocate here," Danny interjected. "But please note the source of that information."

"I don't think Nobel was bluffing." Steve propped his hands on his hips. "He's a lot of things, but a liar isn't one of them."

Jack swallowed hard, wishing like hell Steve had agreed with his partner, even if Jack knew in his gut that what Nobel had told them was true. "Mac will need to get to Phoenix. We have a top notch medical staff."

"We can secure a safe line back at headquarters." Steve lifted a brow. "We'll get Jerry checking traffic cams, too. You need a hospital run first?"

"No." Jack shook his head. What he needed was for this to all be a bad dream, or maybe a time machine so he could go back into the past and follow through with the shot that should have killed Nobel to begin with. Neither scenario was possible so he just prayed that he'd be able to pull off whatever was necessary to get Mac the help he needed in time. He glanced at Danny. "But do you think your buddy Kamekona could box some more of that shrimp to go? I'm still freaking starving."

"Neanderthals." Danny tossed his hands in the air but moved towards the food truck with another muttered. "Complete Neanderthals."

Once Danny had reluctantly headed for the food truck, Jack turned to Steve, no longer bothering with the front he'd been maintaining. "What the hell are we going to do?"

"Take it easy, man." Steve held up a hand in an attempt to ward off Jack's panic. "We're going to figure this out. I promise you."

"You know what Jonas is capable of, the things he wanted to use on people all in the name of winning a war." Jack remembered looking at some of their old teammate's plans, trying to laugh them off as fanciful plots that Nobel wouldn't possibly be capable of pulling off, hoping they were as fanciful as Jerry's super soldier theories, but knowing in his gut they were far too tangible, and then realizing that even if their own government might hold to ethics that prevented such tactics, others were not as moral. "This is my partner we're talking about, not some enemy that might be easy to villainize and write off."

Steve reached up and squeezed Jack's shoulder. "And losing it now is not going to help MacGyver. We're going to keep it together and use all our resources to get Nobel and that antidote before Quesan comes into the picture."

"And if we don't?" Jack searched Steve's gaze, hoping he'd find that the man he'd known all those years ago, the one who would do whatever it took to rescue one of their people, was still there, despite wearing a badge now and answering to the governor of Hawaii. "Get Nobel, and the antidote in time?"

"Then you'll take out Quesan." Steven nodded, not letting Jack down. He gripped the agent's shoulder once more before letting his hand fall away. "I'll spot the shot for you myself. Mac's not going to die. Not on our watch."

Jack let out the breath he'd been holding in a relieved sigh. He swallowed hard, hoping to keep his voice light as he forced a smile. "Danno's not going to like that."

Steve let out a bark of a laugh. "That goes without saying."

"I have a feeling I'm quickly getting on his bad side?" Jack added, following Steve as the other man turned and started for the car.

"No, I think he likes you," Steve said. "He gave you a nickname, after all. Delta Dalton has a ring to it."

"I don't know." Jack limped along behind, cursing as the cut on his side pulled with each step. "He was right about the whole being shot at and nearly dying before the day was through."

"In all fairness Danno thinks he's going to be shot at and killed basically every day he spends with me." Steve sent Jack a sideways glance as they reached the Camaro. "If you haven't noticed, he has a pessimistic streak a mile wide and cynical is his middle name."

"He does have you for a partner," Jack shrugged. "It could just be a healthy dose of realism and self-preservation."

"Very funny," Steve grinned. "I could always make you hobble back to headquarters."

"Which is a plan I intend to get behind unless Kamekona can do something to fix your leak." Danny said as he joined them, the big Hawaiian chef in tow. Kamekona was bearing a white duffel, and despite just having his lunch crowd run off by a rogue sniper, he was smiling widely at Jack.

"Is that my shrimp?" Jack ignored the detective, looking instead to Kamekona.

"Something better, Brah." Kamekona patted the small bag. "It's my doctor kit."

"Excuse me?" Jack took a small step back, not liking the gleam in the other man's eyes as he reached in and pulled out a stethoscope.

"I brought medical treatment." Danny extended his arm to Kamekona. "Kamekona is going to keep you from ruining my seats, and from going into shock, too, of course."

"Before I was a culinary expert I took night classes to be a medic." Kamekona placed the stethoscope around his incredibly thick neck. "You're in good hands, Haole."

Jack frowned, holding an arm protectively over his injured side. "I thought you sold shaved ice and illegal weapons before you became the master of all things shrimp?"

"That too."

"Kamekona is a real Renaissance Man," Danny explained. When Jack gave him an incredulous glare, the detective added. "Let me put it this way, Double D, you're not getting in my car until he stops the blood from oozing from your body."

Jack looked to Steve who shook his head. "It's his car, Man. I just drive it."

"Poorly, I might add," Danny inserted.

Jack sighed, resigned to his fate. "Can I at least have some shrimp afterwards?"

Much to his dismay, Jack didn't get one piece of shrimp or even a stinking lollipop for his trouble. Admittedly, after Kamekona's grueling patch-up job, that probably wasn't such a bad thing. As it was his side hurt, he felt nauseous, and his head was pounding. Danny was lucky Jack didn't throw up in his precious car, rendering the beach towels he made Jack sit on despite no longer oozing blood pretty much useless.

Jack was doing good to make it into Five-0's headquarters on his own accord without collapsing from pure exhaustion. The one thing that kept him putting one foot in front of the other and ignoring the throbbing, burning sensation in his back and ribs was the thought of getting to a secure line and reaching first Mac and then Thornton.

He could feel Steve's gaze on him from where he and Danny were a few steps behind, possibly placing bets on how much longer Jack could actually stay upright. It was actually more encouragement for Jack to speed up and get into headquarters as quickly as possible. He didn't have time for the hospital run that Steve once again suggested when Jack had gone three shades of white when Kamekona none so gently applied the butterfly strips to the deepest knife wound.

Getting his hands on some Ibuprofen, which the Renaissance Man's pitiful medical kit had lacked, would have to take priority if Jack was going to continue to push his body past its limitations. Jack would later blame his laser-like focus and lack of rest, blood loss, hunger and anything else he could pull from a hat for letting his guard down when he finally crossed into Five-0's inner sanctum.

After all, blocking a right cross, even one thrown with sweet precision and a hell of a lot of pent up aggression was something Jack could usually accomplish in his sleep. If not successfully dodge all together, then at least take the hit with some grace. Instead, he went down like someone with a glass jaw, knocked flat on his back. Maybe now Jerry would finally let go of his super soldier theory.

When Jack caught his breath and managed to look up to see what or who had taken him out, there were two blurry, blond, blue-eyed, extremely pissed-off versions of his partner looming above him.

"Damn, Mac," Jack slurred, managing to bring a hand to his jaw. "What the hell?"

If Mac answered Jack didn't hear him. He was too consumed by the ringing in his ears, all the pretty stars exploding around him, then completely swallowed up by the beckoning black night.

To be continued….


	7. Chapter 7

Guard Your Heart

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: So, I was going to save this for tomorrow, but in light of the amazing news of MacGyver's early renewal, I couldn't resist but to post as a celebration!. I wanted to give Mac & Jack's reunion a little focus of its own. And I am trying to keep myself entertained seeing as there is no new episode for another week. Sigh. Anyway I have been pleasantly distracted by reading all the Season Finale plot twists posted by DashboardOnFire at MacGyveronline. If you haven't followed them, they are more than amusing. ;-) Although Dashboard didn't see this early announcement coming! Thank you for all the kind reviews. They truly make my day! And a shout out to Mary, who made me redo this whole chapter, because she is wise, wise and mean with a red pen.

RcJ

"Did you know that it is an irrefutable truth that the world will break you?" Mac chanced a look at Jack when his question seemed particularly loud in the quiet office. It was just the two of them now, the others working on different tasks that were all oriented around the main objective of tracking down Nobel. Mac would admit the conversation was stilted by the fact that Jack was unconscious, but he hoped that by talking he might bring his partner around.

"It was one of the first things I really learned, you know," Mac continued, giving a one-armed shrug as if Jack could actually see him. "An undesirable side effect from having a parent die when you're just a little kid, I guess."

Now would have been the place where Jack would have leaned forward, making some kind of physical contact. He would have lowered his voice as if what he was about to say was meant only for them. 'I hear ya, bud.' Or maybe, 'I wish I could have changed that for you, kid. I'd have done anything.'

But no one could change that first undeniable truth that Mac's incredibly sharp mind had latched onto. It became ingrained and recognized by Mac's young psyche possibly even before the classic one plus one equals two, and way before he'd absorbed any of Newton's laws.

In a particularly unsure moment, Mac had once asked his grandfather if there was any wiggle room where being broken was concerned. It was a purposive and an earnest question, as all Mac's queries were at the tender age of ten. He would never forget the shadow that had fallen over his grandfather as he seemed to intently mull over the request.

"It was like this massive storm cloud had passed over the sun," Mac explained to Jack, as he recalled how all the light his grandfather always seemed to emanate suddenly dulled. "He told me the only way not to be broken was to avoid loving anyone at all costs."

Mac's grandfather had been uncharacteristically gentle in his response, but as forthright as ever. After giving his grandson a moment to mull over the answer, he'd gripped Mac's slim shoulder, adding that he would however advise against such drastic maneuvers. It was always better to be brave and all broken up, he'd said, than completely untouched and whole.

"He explained that people would leave marks on my heart, and it was true that some would be so deep and devastating that no amount of time could mend them." Mac looked at Jack, giving a slight smirk. "This is where you might unhelpfully use Nikki as an example, and take the opportunity to call her a few of those choice words you toss out now whenever her name comes up."

The fact that Jack remained far too still had Mac's gut twisting as if he were that little boy again, the one listening to his grandfather speak a hard, but undeniable certainty. The old man had talked about nicks and cracks, which came from people bumping up against one another while doing life together. He'd then promised a wide-eyed Mac that despite sometimes being painful, those collisions, even the really bad ones, were what made life interesting, what made a body real.

"Just between us, I'm pretty sure he got most of it from The Velveteen Rabbit." Mac leaned forward in the chair he'd pulled close to the couch. "You see my grandfather might be the smartest man I know, but he isn't exactly the touchy-feely type."

Mac's grandfather had topped off his answer with a much more typical assurance. He'd ruffled Mac's hair, telling him not to worry. After all, for the most part, he'd promised, MacGyver men were from hardy stock, brave by nature, and not afraid of being a bit banged up and broken.

"Not my dad, though." Mac glanced down at his hands, unable to look at Jack's face despite his partner's unresponsive state. "I'm pretty sure he's a coward."

Sometimes Mac was convinced of the old adage that the proverbial apple didn't fall far from the tree. After all, he secretly feared a lot of things, but none more so maybe than the power that love could wield over a person. Mac was both in awe of such a force and completely terrified of its dominion at the same time. Sort of like how he felt, much to Jack's dismay, about horses.

"I used to think I had to prove what my grandfather said about MacGyver men." Mac chanced another glance at Jack, knowing if his partner had been awake he would have seen the truth in Mac's eyes. Jack would have given an understanding nod, knowing exactly what it was like to want to escape the long shadow a dad could cast for his son. Mac had done a lot of those things to establish clear, defined lines between him and his father. "You would have been pissed at this, but I once chanced this crazy jump from Dead Man's Leap just because some punk kids dared me to."

Said bullies had ran off even before Mac had hit the water, leaving a terrified Bozer alone at the top to deal with what the older boys were sure would be an incident with the authorities when they came to drag the lake for Mac's body. There were other risks as well. The ridiculously high bike ramps, skateboarding feats, and one disastrous attempt at flying which left Mac with a broken arm and Bozer having to have sessions with the school counselor for the remainder of seventh grade.

"Then there was the Army, but you know all about that." Mac sighed, wishing Jack would just wake up so he could stop thinking about his past, about all the things that he'd risked and put into motion because of the choices his father had made years before.

"On the surface, it probably seemed like I was pretty brave, but I was just using science. I mean physics, when applied properly can make up for a lot of skill in things like jumping bikes and catching air on a skate board. Even a leap from a scary outcropping can be calculated if one understands the height of the jump, vertical line and how to reduce the speed of impact."

Even bombs were mere machines, and machines could be disassembled and destroyed if a guy was armed with the proper knowledge. Mac had volumes and volumes of knowledge. It was matters of the heart where he sometimes worried he had the real deficiency. A defect his father had passed along.

"It's probably why I punched you for the first time all those years ago. You scared the hell out of me and you were the kind of fear I couldn't quantify or put parameters around." Mac considered the possibility thoughtfully as he rubbed his throbbing knuckles and willed Jack to wake up so he could simultaneously relieve Mac's worry and give Mac a chance to yell at him for reminding Mac that even after all these years he was still very, very afraid.

"My greatest fear is losing the people I love, or maybe failing to keep them safe." He often thought it was a similar fear that might have compelled his father to run, to avoid people at all costs, especially the ones who needed him most. Mac managed to stay in the game, but it was a hyper awareness of the price he might pay, the penalty he could be dealt, that kept his list of important people incredibly exclusive.

"It's harder to make than some of Forbes's more famous ones," Mac admitted, knowing, in fact that not more than five, maybe six graced the register, and one of those was a dog, who Mac had buried years ago. The higher up on Mac's inventory, the more protective Mac could be. Jack Dalton fell smack dab at the top, right up there with Bozer and Mac's wise and wily grandfather.

"Sometimes it still baffles me how you managed to end up on the list in the first place." Mac frowned at Jack. "I mean I didn't want you there. I sure as hell didn't intentionally make a spot for you, or pencil you in."

Like Mac had told Jack upon their first meeting, he didn't need or want some big brother to watch over him like he was a child that required protecting. But Jack had ignored him completely and become just that, the brother Mac hadn't realized he was missing, until his heart had betrayed him and latched on without Mac's permission.

It was probably why Mac was pissed enough to resort to violence five years ago when he'd first discovered the hard-headed Delta operator had somehow secretly infiltrated every defense to position himself, not just on Mac's short list, but somehow had wrangled a scoring right alongside Mac's only family and his oldest friend. The revelation had come alongside a scare. Or more likely it had been realized because of the fright.

"Back in the desert, when that insurgent shot you…" Mac faltered as the image came unbidden to his mind. It was Mac's fourth or fifth mission with Delta within a year's time. A sweep of a building being used by Taliban forces to build IED's and a turn of bad timing had landed Mac in the hands of an enemy soldier bent on making his way out of the strike zone with an American prisoner as his personal shield. Jack had taken offense to that hostage being Mac and of course had done something stupid which earned him a slug to the chest before the insurgent had been taken out by another Delta sniper.

"All I could think about was how one minute you were goading the man with the gun to my head by flinging insults, your southern accent butchering the Dari and Pashto dialect, and then the next thing I knew you were lying far too still in the sand." Mac had stood there a good second, gaping dumbstruck at where Jack lie, willing his paralyzed legs to work. He'd started to tremble, flashing back to the moment only months before when Pena's lifeless, destroyed body had been brought out on a stretcher.

It took Jack taking a gasping breath, letting loose with a string of unholy curses as he gripped a hand to the front of his vest where the bullet had struck and imbedded into the life-saving body armor, for Mac to actually shake himself free from the horrific memory of losing his C.O. and move to the Delta's side, where he'd dropped to his knees in relief at the fact his friend, his brother, was indeed alive and one lucky sonofabitch.

"Your stupid grin is what did it, although asking me if I was okay when you couldn't even manage to properly breathe probably didn't help matters." Mac's sworn protector had barely made it to his knees, his smile fading under unmasked concern for the EODs silence, when Mac punched him square in the face, spilling blood that the Taliban bullet hadn't managed.

"Of course, _that_ right cross didn't knock you out." It had set Jack back on his ass in the dirt, and earned him a good amount of teasing by the rest of the team, especially after Mac followed it up with a string of colorful language of his own, throwing some of Jack's more derogatory Dari and Pashto phrases in for good measure. "If I'd known you had been up for two days straight and had just been stabbed, I might have pulled this punch a little."

In all honesty, Mac wasn't sure that even if he'd known all the circumstances he would have been able to stop himself from lashing out when Jack had strode into 5-0 headquarters. Jack's disappearance had picked at too many old wounds, leaving Mac frayed around the edges, disjointed. Finding out about the toxin had compounded the small fissures of Mac's usual composure, had depleted his control. He was first and foremost worried about Jack, but seeing him alive and whole had made room for the other feeling, Mac's anger, to take temporary prominence. He'd snapped.

"Damn it, Jack." Mac ran both hands through his hair, glaring at his partner's unmoving form on the couch. He shook off the thoughts of the desert and all his personal deficits, focusing all his attention on Jack's pale pallor, the slight beard that he hadn't seen Jack sport since their days in the Army when they were on mission for long stretches of time. The blood stains on his shirt drew Mac's gaze, ratcheting up his guilt along with his worry. He wondered about the wisdom of not calling an ambulance, because talking was getting them nowhere, only working to make Mac feel worse, with no effect on Jack regaining consciousness.

A soft moan ended Mac's self-recrimination and temporarily changed his mind about the medic. He shifted in the chair, bringing a hand to his partner's arm. "Jack? Can you hear me?"

Jack blinked a few times, finally managing to keep his eyes open long enough to meet Mac's gaze though Mac wasn't sure if the bleary look was really any indication that Jack was actually able to focus. He shifted his hand to cover his partner's, anchoring him.

"You back with me, man?"

"Mac?" Jack's voice was rough, and he lifted his head slightly, as if he was trying to get a handle on his surroundings.

"I'm here, just take it easy."

"Why?" Jack pushed himself up, surprising Mac with the sudden urgency. His voice grew stronger in alarm. "Why the hell are you here?"

"I'm not sure that's the question you should start with." Mac removed his touch, frowning at the other man struggling to make it to sitting.

"Oh God, Mac," Jack was stammering, shoving unsuccessfully at the light blanket Jerry had brought from his office. Apparently Five-0's computer tech and Jack had bonded in the short time Jack had on the island. "You should be at Phoenix. You don't understand. You need to be in a hospital."

"Says the guy with a knife wound who has been unconscious for the last hour." If Jack hadn't looked so out of it, and half panicked Mac might have let his old anger be stirred again. He may have recalled the perfectly planned, well-executed argument he'd rehearsed on the plane ride from California to Oahu, but as it was he couldn't work up any real ire. Instead he stood to help his partner, his gentle restraint the only thing keeping Jack from standing once he'd made it up right on the couch and untangled his legs from the cover.

"Thanks to you, Mac. Why the hell did you hit me?" Jack momentarily touched his jaw, flashing Mac a wounded glare. He seemed to regain his train of thought before Mac could formulate a reply and tried to stand once more. "Never mind. Let me up. I'm fine. We have to get you back to Phoenix. ASAP."

"You're not fine." Mac felt a tinge of that old irritation push through as Jack's attempt at getting up nearly sent him sprawling. He gripped the older agent's shoulders and forced him to sit back on the couch. "McGarrett said you've been up since you left LA. You were stabbed. And I'm not going anywhere."

"You were poisoned," Jack blurted it out, like the confession he probably saw it as. His brown eyes met Mac's, completely focused now but full of an emotion Mac wasn't used to seeing on Jack. Desperation. "It's bad, Mac. Really bad."

"I know," Mac acknowledged, moving to take a seat beside his partner. "I know about the toxin that was in the bullet Nobel used."

"Steve told you?" Jack turned so he was facing Mac.

"He didn't have to." Mac didn't have the luxury of going into all the details, just as he didn't have the time to hold onto his anger. From what McGarrett had told him, they were going to be working in a very tight time frame. "I figured it out when Bozer and I were in D.C."

"D.C.?" Jack's brow furrowed in confusion. "What were you two doing in Washington?"

"Talking to Hammond."

"I don't understand…" Jack started only to shake his head again. "And you can explain it to me later, but if you knew about the toxin why didn't you get your ass back to Phoenix? Thornton will make this a top priority. They need to get their Frankenstein Squad to start formulating an antidote in case I can't work this thing with Jonas."

"Jack, Thornton's been advised." Mac rolled his eyes at Jack's pet name for the chemists and biologists Phoenix staffed. They were some of the top researchers in their fields of study, not deranged scientists with an agenda as Jack sometimes liked to theorize. "The lab at Phoenix and Hammond's people have blood samples, and Phoenix has the remnants of the bullet that shot me. From preliminary results it looks like it held some kind of synthetic organic polymer- hybrid, possibly a cyanide-like derivative."

"Cyanide?" Jack looked gutted and Mac held up a hand to stave off his partner's full blown panic episode certainly fueled by his overactive imagination.

"Not cyanide, exactly. Cyanide-like." Jack's eyes bulged at Mac's clarification, as if he was sure Mac was already in some hallucinatory stage. Hallucinations were on the list of symptoms Hammond's doctor had told Mac to expect, but he wasn't about to share that with Jack. "What I'm trying to tell you is that it's going to take time to break down the compound and even if our scientists are able to do that, creating an exact replica and then an antidote might be impossible without the blueprint that devised the original or a model formula created by its designer. Long story short, there is no treatment available to us so me sitting in a hospital is a waste of my time. You know me better than that."

"Shit, Mac." Jack's gaze roved over Mac, seeming to look for some kind of outward sign of the horrors Mac was telling him. "Are you feeling okay? Do you have a fever? You look pale, bud."

"Jack." Mac caught the older agent's wrist in his grasp when Jack went to press it against his forehead. He was not willing to admit he might have the beginnings of a low grade fever. They had too many other things to worry about now that Jack was awake, locating Nobel their first priority. "Stop. Just…Just calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down, brother." Jack didn't try to pull away, instead he flipped his hand so that now his fingers were wrapped tightly around Mac's wrist. They were cool on Mac's heated skin. "You've been poisoned and don't even try to blow it off or use your big fancy words you think I won't get. Trust me when I say I know exactly what kind of destruction Nobel's toxins cause. I used to sit around the campfire on base reading his notes like they were some damn Stephen King novel. He was also very forthcoming in our latest run in about what he'd done to you. So don't patronize me and don't try to protect me. It's my job to watch out for you, one I'm admittedly failing spectacularly at the moment, but mine just the same."

Mac realized he was going to have to change tactics. "Remember how you told me once that you couldn't do your thing if you were too busy worrying about losing me every minute?"

"Yes." Jack frowned. "When another crazy sniper was trying to kill you."

"Then knowing you like Nobel obviously does, don't you think that maybe he's counting on that to be true this time." Mac nodded to the blood on Jack's shirt. McGarrett had assured Mac it was a flesh wound, nothing that demanded immediate medical attention, although McGarrett's partner had insisted he'd gotten Jack appropriate care by someone named Dr. Kamekona. "It's not like he can physically handicap you, not if he plans on using you to shoot Quesan."

Jack winced. "You know about that, too?"

"McGarrett filled me in on Jonas's big plans while we were carrying your heavy ass in here." Mac managed a half grin when Jack looked horrified at the thoughts of showing such weakness. "We'll have to find another way to get the antidote."

"We have to do whatever it takes to save you," Jack interrupted.

Mac gave him a hard look. "Either way, if Nobel can keep you shook up, you aren't going to be able to out think him. If he can use your worry for me against you then you can't strategize. All of which means you can't focus on me because if you do, you're not going to be able to concentrate on Jonas and that's where your energy has to go right now. It's the only useful thing you can do for me at this point, the only way you can help me and keep me alive."

"Damn it." Jack let go of Mac, pushing the palms of his hands against his brow as he let out a growl of frustration. "I freaking hate it when you're right."

"Which explains why you're usually in a typical state of irritation." Mac chanced another grin even though Jack was now staring at the floor. "It must suck to be wrong all the time."

"What sucks is knowing you're going to suffer." Jack didn't even look up. Mac felt his heart rate kick up a notch at the hitch in his partner's voice, the joke obviously doing the opposite of what Mac intended. "Knowing I caused it and there's nothing I can do to stop it or take it back."

For a brief moment Mac wondered if his father felt anywhere near such recrimination for the ways Mac had suffered from the choices he'd made. Then Jack lifted his gaze, and Mac regained his footing in the present, blaming the slip on the relentless pounding behind his eyes. "Feeling guilty is as distracting as obsessing about what's going to happen to me."

"But I am guilty," Jack continued. "Guilty of a lot of damn things, but the most relevant at this point is that I'm guilty of not killing Nobel in the first damn place. I disobeyed orders, because I thought I knew best, that I was taking some kind of high road for once in my life. Now you're paying the price for my mistake. Maybe Jonas was right when he said I was a fucking coward."

"You are the bravest man I know," Mac countered without thought or moment's hesitation. He knew all about cowards, if Jack had been awake for their earlier conversation he would have understood how Mac knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jack Dalton was anything but.

Jack threw himself in front of bullets, over grenades, and barreled into burning buildings all in the name of saving people. More importantly, Jack always showed up and he never ran out on those who were counting on him most. Even fleeing Los Angeles, as much as Mac hated to admit it, had been an act of courage on Jack's part. In the deepest recesses of Mac's heart, he knew walking out Mac's door that night had gone against every natural instinct Jack possessed. Leaving his team, his family, leaving _Mac_ behind was torture. The easier thing, the more selfish act-at least in Jack's mind- would have been to stay, or worse take Mac with him.

"Says the guy who came after me knowing he was dosed with a deadly Cyanide-like toxin." Jack's counter had Mac blinking, pulling himself from his thoughts once more. Jack arched a brow. "Speaking of which, I thought I told you once you didn't get to do stupid things by yourself."

"It kind of goes both ways, man," Mac sighed. Jack Dalton might not have been a coward, but he was very often a huge hypocrite, at least where Mac was concerned. "And I had Bozer with me."

"Bozer?" Jack shook his head, then nodded to Mac's shoulder. "Bozer is the pushover parent. He can't even get you to wear the stupid sling the doctor gave you. And I won't even begin on why he should have found some way of keeping your scrawny ass in Los Angeles."

"In his defense, you've never had much luck getting me to follow doctor's orders either and I have no idea where you got the idea that you two are the grownups in our family." Mac narrowed his gaze at Jack. "Besides, no one could have convinced me to stay in LA, not when I didn't' know if you were in danger. You're my partner and it's my job to have your back. If Thornton hadn't provided the ride to D.C., I would have found my own way."

"How in the hell did you even know to go to Hammond in the first place?" Jack looked expectantly at Mac.

"Bozer saw a part of the note that Nobel left you. I put the Alfred Nobel connection together. Thornton ran some scenarios and we came up with the file on Operation M.O.D."

"Right. You know all about the father of dynamite, but you got 'Hard-nosed' Hammond to fill in the missing pieces?" Jack snorted. "Damn, Shepherd, I know the General thinks you shit sunshine, but getting him to risk a Court-martial to talk about an operation of that classified level after all these years…"

"He owed me." Mac didn't need to remind Jack as to why or how Hammond was indebted. They rarely talked about their time in the desert, especially the last unexpected mission they worked in Iraq. The subject almost as taboo as Cairo. Mac hadn't heard Jack call him Shepherd in years, and it brought an odd foreboding, one Mac was quick to shove aside. "You have the scars to prove it, Tombstone."

"And now I owe him another one," Jack ran a hand over his hair and winced. "We'll be damn lucky if he doesn't show up here with a team of MP's to arrest me."

"That's not going to happen." Mac felt a wave of nausea at the thought. He hoped it was just a reaction to the possibility he might have found Jack only to lose him in a completely different way and not more signs Nobel's toxin was indeed breaching his body. "It sounds like he put you in an impossible position."

"Don't try to conjure some situation in which I'm the wronged party here and come out the hero in this scenario, Kid." Jack stood, Mac reaching a hand out to steady him as the older agent swayed. Jack stepped out of his reach, his legs holding him this time. "I screwed up, and if it _only_ costs me my career and possibly my freedom then I will consider myself damn lucky."

"We're going to fix this Jack." Mac stood as well, thankful he didn't have his own dizzy spell.

"The only thing I really care about fixing is you, bud." Jack turned, stared straight at Mac. He lifted a hand when Mac opened his mouth to reiterate his earlier point. "I get that I have to keep my shit together and keep my focus on Nobel, but if you think for one instant that the end game isn't all about making sure you get out of this alive, then you don't know me half as well as I thought you did."

"I know you better than anyone." Mac knew it wasn't a huge feat. Jack was pretty much an open book. He wore his heart on his sleeve and was terrible at hiding anything he was thinking, at least when it came to the people with whom he was closest. Even when his hackles were up and he could be as prickly as a Barbary fig cactus, Jack was as transparent as they came. It was why Mac was more than a little hurt, and a bit chagrined by the fact he had never heard not even one story of Nobel, or the special strike team Jack had been a part of while in Delta. "At least I thought I did."

Jack seemed to read his mind. "Brother, we all have that one thing we don't' want anyone to know about us. Especially the person who just happens to be the one we want to think only the best of us."

Mac was denied a chance to reply, to explain that nothing could make him think less of Jack, when McGarrett's office door swung open unexpectedly and his blond partner entered.

"Good. You're up." Danny looked surprised to see Jack on his feet. "Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to make sure your extremely 'peace-loving' partner hadn't smothered you with a pillow while you slept."

Jack rolled his eyes. "As you can see, he resisted."

Danny glanced at Mac. "That's too bad because that would be like the second violent fantasy I've had about my own partner that he would have fulfilled today, despite you describing him as a saintly pacifist. I can't begin to tell how much I enjoyed living vicariously through that sweet right cross he threw earlier."

"Your concern for me is touching, Danno," Jack carefully folded his arms over his chest, narrowing his gaze at the other man.

"That's Detective Williams to you." Danny turned and smiled at Mac, even giving a slight bow. "You on the other hand are like my new favorite super hero, able to take down testosterone fueled freaks from Special Forces in one single bound, so you, Agent MacGyver, can call me Danny."

"Okay, Danny." Mac wasn't quite sure what else to say, so he added. "Just call me Mac."

"Mac, Steve has something he wants you and the glass jawed one to see." Danny gestured toward the outer room where McGarrett and his team along with Bozer had gathered around the computer table in the center. "That is if you're partner is feeling up to it."

"I'm fine," Jack insisted, grumbling under his breath as Danny turned to leave. "Much to your disappointment it would seem."

Mac shot Jack a curious look after the detective closed the door. "I see you've made your typical first impression on the locals."

"Don't let the attitude fool you. He actually likes me," Jack huffed. "Apparently insults are his love language."

Mac wasn't so sure. "I guess everybody shows their love in a different way."

"Yeah, like busting a guy in the mouth." Jack rubbed his jaw again.

"That's not why I hit you." Mac didn't quite meet Jack's gaze, instead looking out Steve's windows again. It was one thing to be completely honest when Jack was out of it, quite another when he was staring at Mac with all an all too knowing and sympathetic gaze. "We should get out there if you really are feeling up to it."

"Like I said, I'm good to go." Jack took a few steps towards Mac instead of the door that would take him out of the office. "It's you I'm not so sure about."

"We had this conversation." Mac would be the first to admit that Jack was as stubborn as they came, and at times overprotective, but he was also sensible when it boiled down to the bones of a mission. The objective was always in sight, even if he could get sidetracked by a little thing like his partner being poisoned. Mac started for the door with every intent to get the ball rolling in spite of Jack's stalling.

"Hold up now. Wait." Jack caught Mac's uninjured arm. "This is a different conversation. One we need to have if we're going to do this."

Mac looked down at Jack's grip and Jack let him go. "Okay."

"I need you to be straight with me. I need to know when any, and I mean any symptoms start showing up." Jack propped his hands on his hips. "If you don't want me to be distracted by my concern then don't make me worry you're hiding stuff from me. I mean it, Mac."

"Fine." Mac sighed, knowing he was being boxed in with his own logic. "I have what quite possibly might be the world's worst headache, and maybe a fever. Does that help?""

"No, damn it, it does not help." Jack stepped forward, succeeding in pressing the back of his hand to Mac's forehead this time. "I knew you looked flushed. We should have a doctor on standby, just in…"

"No." Mac was shaking his head, moving away before Jack could even finish. "That's not necessary. I can stay in contact with Hammond's medical staff and if you want me to be honest with you then you have to promise not to overreact or play mother hen. Bozer's bad enough. I'm afraid he might have to go see Phoenix's resident therapist after this."

"Listen. This isn't a negotiation." Jack held up a hand to ward off Mac's further protests or redirects. "We're in the field and I'm in charge of the safety parameters of the mission. If I say we need a medic on hand, then we're damn well going to have one. The good general can send his best doc here."

"Someone local." Mac folded his arms over his chest, hiding the wince when the move pulled at his still healing bullet wound. The mental visual Jack had painted of him being hauled off in handcuffs by MP's was all too fresh in Mac's mind. "I don't want to give Hammond a reason to come. We have enough players on the board as it is and you know that. If Nobel even thinks you're not going along with his plan…"

"Alright." Jack held up a hand to silence Mac's counter. "A local, but not some guy with a half-stocked doctor's bag who runs shrimp and guns out of his snow cone truck."

"What?" Mac asked, confused.

Instead of explaining Jack reached out and gripped the back of Mac's neck, pulling him closer so that there was little room between them. He lowered his voice, just as Mac knew he would. "I also need you to understand that I'm sorry as hell I had to leave you behind, kid. Especially after the whole Murdoc thing. If I thought there was any other way…"

"I know, Jack." Mac gave a slight nod, all his forthrightness and candor from their earlier one-sided conversation fleeing him. "We're good."

"Good." Jack stared at him for a long moment and then let his hand slide away. "Now is there anything you want to apologize for, bud?"

"No." Mac shook his head, knowing all too well what Jack was hinting at. He started for the door once more. "Not that I can think of."

"Nothing?" Jack asked, following behind. "Are you positive?"

"Well, maybe." Mac paused at the entranceway, meeting Jack's expectant gaze. He even managed a half way decent grin this time. "I might have let it slip to Boze that you knew how to work the Keurig. From now on, partner, you'll be making your own coffee."

To be continued…


	8. Chapter 8

Guard Your Heart

By: Ridley

A/N: I know it has been a while since this story has been updated, but there was a reason I needed to finish Casting Mountains first. There was some backstory I could have told but I really wanted you all to see it, instead of just hearing about it. Lol. I hope you haven't lost faith or interest in this story. Thank you for all those who messaged me about its continuation, and the generous reviews. Hopefully, you won't be disappointed. As always, thanks to my beta, Mary, who takes my thoughts and makes them better.

RCJ

Jack tried to exit Steve's office with as much dignity as possible. Considering everyone in the room had seen him taken out by Mac's punch, he was actually glad for the blood stained shirt he was wearing and the fact he knew he probably looked like hell. It at least gave some credence to his injured and weakened state which he would quickly point out if anyone dared to bring it up.

"What up, Boze?" Jack nodded to their teammate, who was standing between Jerry and Chin. He flashed the younger man one of his devil may care grins. "Told you we'd score some beach time while Mac was on R&R."

Bozer folded his arms over his chest frowning at the older agent but not responding.

"He's not speaking to you, Agent Dalton," Jerry explained with a shrug. "He's choosing the peaceful path instead of the one of wrath that your partner followed."

"Wrath? Is this about the Keurig?" Jack frowned, wondering when Bozer and Five-0's computer guru had found the time to become best buds. "Because I never actually said I couldn't make coffee, Bozer. You just assumed and…"

"The Keurig! You think I'm mad about the Keurig!" Bozer's eyes bulged and he brought a fist to his mouth, biting his knuckle as if he were trying to prevent himself from saying anything he might regret. Jerry patted the much shorter man's shoulder in show of solidarity.

"Wow." Danny grinned at Jack. "You and Steve really do inspire the same kind of infuriation in those who know you best."

"You alright there, buddy?" Steve asked, sparing Jack from commenting on Danny's unwanted observation.

"Nothing a whole lot of Motrin and a little bit of good news won't cure." Jack was grateful for the redirect. He'd patch things up with Bozer later when Mac's life wasn't hanging in the balance and when there wasn't a chance he might actually be taken down if Bozer chose to act on his supposed wrath. Succumbing to a punch from his brother, who had at least served in Delta was one thing, Bozer knocking him on his ass would be completely unacceptable, knife wound and exhaustion aside. As it was Jack couldn't blame the other man for being pissed at him. He doubted there was anything Bozer could say that Jack hadn't already thought himself. He motioned to the screen in front of them. "What have you got?"

"I had Jerry check all the traffic cams in the area of the park for any motorcycles matching the description the witnesses gave us of the bike Nobel was on," Steve explained, crossing his arms over his chest. "We were hoping we might back track him to a general area where he could be holed up, at least give us a direction to start."

"I found a bike matching their vague descriptions," Jerry piped up, glancing pointedly from Steve to Jack. "It would have been nice if one of you had actually seen it."

"Sorry I didn't have time to get the specifics and a license plate seeing as how I was being shot at and had just been stabbed." Jack gestured to his bloodied shirt, not beyond throwing in his condition just for good measure.

"See what I mean," Bozer said under his breath to Jerry. Jack frowned at his teammate, who was gesturing to him as if Jack had just proved some major point he'd been trying to make.

"Totally get it," Jerry muttered back before sliding his hand over the table and bringing up a shot of a four-way intersection. There was a motorcycle with a man dressed in a jacket that could have been the one Nobel had been wearing. A helmet and dark glasses obscured the rider's face. Jack watched three more images appear. "Here is the same bike at four different lights."

"Can you grid an area from the location and timestamps?" Mac asked Jerry. Jack didn't miss how the kid almost casually leaned against the table for support.

"That's the thing." Jerry shook his head. "I found at least half a dozen other images at different areas on the island before Noble eventually heads to his unexpected meet up with Steve, Danny and Agent Dalton. There is no rhyme or reason. It's random patterns for the majority of the time, like he was lost or going in circles."

"Jonas was never dumb." Jack brought a hand to his side as the knife wound made itself known. He glanced to Steve, giving a sigh of frustration. "He's bound to know we'd have access to the traffic cameras. I'm surprised he didn't mug it up, pop a wheelie or two to get our attention. This will get us nowhere."

"Maybe not, but there's something else." Steve pointed to the screen. "Look at the pictures again."

"The same vehicle is in all of them." Mac was the first to speak up, catching quickly what Jack was just now seeing. "The black SUV is following him. If he made them, it would explain the randomness of his travel."

"I recognized it after Jerry showed us the second shot," Steve told them. "Only because I think it was tailing me and Danny this morning when we went to meet you, Jack. I'm almost positive it was parked across the street from Danny's place when I picked him up, and I caught a glimpse of it a time or two before we exited the city."

"And here I thought you were only being paranoid," Danny harrumphed, studying the screen more closely.

"You think it's the partner that Nobel mentioned?" Jack asked, scanning the pictures again. "He said the man was keeping close tabs on him."

"Jerry says the timeline is wrong," Chin nodded to their computer tech.

"Remember James Stoddard's flight didn't come in until ten," Jerry reminded Jack. "Steve and Danny picked you up a couple of hours before that."

"Who's James Stoddard?" Bozer asked, confusion clearly written on his face.

"The scientist, James Stoddard?" Mac looked just as perplexed. "The same James Stoddard who won the Nobel prize for chemistry this year."

"Exactly." Jerry grinned at Mac. "We believe it to be Nobel's current alias. That's how I found him on the flight manifest in the first place."

"And Nobel told us his partner was with him in Los Angeles," Danny pointed out, sending a glance in Mac's direction. "Apparently he's the one who shot you with the dirty bullet after some coaching from the resurrected super sniper that is."

"It would stand to reason that this partner came to Hawaii the same time as Nobel," Chin concurred. "Which means he couldn't have been the one tailing Nobel."

Jack gripped the sides of the table, his frustration growing right along with the convolutedness. "So who's in the damn car? The DEA shouldn't have a heads up on Nobel being in the picture. Does this men we have another player on the board?"

"I was able to get a half-way decent image from one of the intersections." Jerry's fingers flew over the table screen, bringing up the front of the SUV. He then tightened the focus to the cab of the vehicle. You can make out the driver better than the passenger, but the image is still grainy. Even if I'm able to clean it up some, I'm not sure it's good enough for facial recognition."

"I may be able to sketch something that might be more accurate," Bozer offered, peering at the grainy shot.

"That won't be necessary, Boze." Jack couldn't quite believe his eyes. He sought out Mac's gaze to be certain. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Pauley." When Mac took his eyes off the screen, he looked just as stunned as Jack.

"Check the red hair on the passenger." Jack took a step around Steve, moving closer to the display screen. Jack hadn't laid eyes on either man since he'd left Afghanistan almost five years before, but there was no denying who they were. "One guess who that might be."

"Deacon," Mac confirmed what Jack was thinking.

"You know these guys?" Steve asked, looking from the screen to Jack and back.

"They were on our team, in my Delta unit back in the desert." Jack ran a hand down his mouth, thankful his stomach was basically empty as a new bout of nausea had him swallowing hard at all the implications running through his mind. He glanced at Mac again, hating the flash of possible betrayal he saw mirrored on his partner's face.

"Why would two Delta operators be here on the island?" Danny asked. "That can't be some weird coincidence."

"Maybe we should ask them, because I think they just joined the party." Chin Ho motioned to the door of their main offices where through the glass they could see the two men in question coming down the short hallway. Just behind them, was no other than General Perseus Hammond, and what looked like a small white bear sauntering by his side but Jack knew from his visit to D.C. last year was Hammond's service dog Curie.

"Damn," Jack said under his breath, quickly drawing himself up to his full height, shoulders back.

"Jack?" Mac stepped closer to his partner, concern in his voice.

"No worries, bud." Jack flashed him a confident grin he didn't quite feel. "No MP's are with them. That's got to be a good sign. Right?"

"Why do I have a feeling things just got a whole lot more complicated?" Jack heard Bozer whisper to Jerry.

"It's been my experience that anytime someone in a military uniform shows up, especially one with as much brass as this guy is wearing, things typically go from bad to worse," Jerry replied in a hushed tone, his gaze locked on the approaching men.

Jack moved to come alongside Steve just as Pauley pushed through the door.

"Long time no see, Tombstone." Pauley slid his dark glasses off, making his way towards them. He tucked the glasses into the pocket of his floral shirt, his easy, disarming smile seeming as if they had planned this unexpected visit. The cargo shorts and sandals he was wearing made him look as much the tourist as any other guy out for a day of sightseeing, but Jack knew he was probably carrying at least three weapons and he wouldn't put it past Pauley to have a grenade strapped to his leg just in case. Any other scenario would have prompted Jack to greet his former teammate enthusiastically, but there was a charge in the air that crackled with danger. This would not be a happy reunion.

"What the hell are you doing here, Loman?" Jack demanded, anger overshadowing the deluge of other feelings that had caught him off guard.

Pauley's smile faded and he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "That's something you'll need to ask Hammer."

Deacon held the door for the general. Their former pilot was dressed similarly to Pauley but didn't bother with the pretense of a happy visit, although Jack did detect a hint of apology in the brief glance they shared before Hammond made his entrance.

"Boys." Hammond regarded Jack and Steve as he strode into the office like he might when he was summoned to address the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He looked toward Mac for a brief second, but preceded to ignore everyone else. His typical air of authority filled the room, giving Jack a strong sense of déjà vu. After all these years he still had an urge to salute the man before him, but resisted in light of the nefarious circumstances.

"What is going on, Ham?" Jack growled, taking a step forward, ignoring the throbbing in his side that had picked up right along with this heart rate. "Why are you here?"

"We need to talk." Hammond looked around Five-0 headquarters, his dark gaze settling on Steve's office set off from the others in its lone corner. "Join me."

Jack and Steve exchanged a look, both glancing over their shoulder at the rest of the men, who gave them equally questioning stares.

"Civilians aren't invited." Hammond seemed to read their hesitation. Never one for chit chat or having his orders ignored, he gestured to Steve's office again. "It wasn't a request, gentlemen."

"It's good to see some things haven't changed," Steve observed as he moved to follow after the general. "Perseus Hammond still thinks he's in charge of the world."

"Hammer's always had a hard time being hands off." Jack remembered many missions when Hammond had not been satisfied with watching the battle from the sidelines, even after he had stepped down from his position with Delta, accepting the appointment at the War College. Jack glanced to Mac, who looked as pissed as he'd seen him, but at least some color had returned to his cheeks.

Pauley and Deacon followed them into the office standing sentry at either side of the door as Hammond commandeered the chair behind Steve's desk, making himself at home, along with Curie who curled near his feet.

"Have a seat, gentlemen," Hammond said as if they were in his office instead of Steve's. He looked up just as Danny barged in.

"I said no civilians, Detective." Hammond narrowed his gaze at Williams. "You'll need to wait outside."

"And I heard you, Sir." Danny continued to the couch in the corner of the office, promptly taking a seat. "No disrespect seeing as how we haven't officially met, but I'm not waiting anywhere. Considering my lowly civilian status, I chose not to follow your direct order as you have no real authority over me. I do, however, have a vested interest in one of your lowly subjects." Danny pointed to Steve. "So I'll be joining you for this top secret briefing."

Steve took a seat, flashing Hammond a 'better men than you have tried and failed' look and to Jack's amazement, the general merely gave a shake of his head and refocused his laser like gaze on the men directly in front of him.

"This is a hell of a mess we have on our hands. I received word about your run in with Nobel in the park this afternoon," Hammond started, his face set in hard lines as he looked from Jack to Steve. "I hope you know you two risked a very important operation with that stunt you pulled. This isn't Baghdad. Cowboy antics are not appreciated."

"I hope you know they were ambushed and Jack was stabbed," Mac started before Jack or Steve could respond. He still hadn't taken the last empty seat next to Jack, instead leaning on Steve's desk to face off with Hammond.

"I'm aware, Shepherd." Hammond glanced to Jack and then back to Mac. Jack didn't even bother with a similar look to the one Steve had given concerning Danny's stubbornness. After all, Hammond had worked with Mac. He should damn well know the kid was as obstinate as they came and he rarely listened to what Jack told him to do.

"I just wanted to be sure considering you seem out of the loop on a whole lot of other facts. Like Nobel being alive. And Jack being in Hawaii. Two things you swore to me you didn't know." Mac growled somewhat breathlessly.

Hammond didn't look the least bit chagrined. Jack wasn't sure the emotion was in the man's tact toolbox. "I might have been less than forthcoming during your visit but you have to understand…"

"I understand you lied to me!" Mac slapped his open palm on the desk, his face reflecting the pain he must have felt from the jar to his injured shoulder, or maybe it was a different kind of hurt, one Jack understood all too well when it came to his partner. Trust wasn't always the easiest thing for Mac to give, he sure as hell didn't respond well when it was misused, but it was unlike his partner to lose his cool. Jack's worry notched up a few degrees with the out of character behavior. "Again!"

"Sit down, MacGyver!" Hammond roared, jumping from his seat in a move that nearly had Jack lunging to put himself in front of his partner. It was instinctive for Jack to shield Mac. No one yelled at the kid on a good day, not on Jack's watch, let alone when he was poisoned and still suffering from a gunshot wound. The only thing that kept Jack in his seat was the belief that Perseus Hammond, no matter how bad the situation looked, would never intentionally hurt one of his own. Still, Jack tensed, his fists clenching of their own volition as the general's face turned three shades of red. "Now!"

"Let's hear him out, brother," Jack said quietly when Mac continued to stand, doing a decent job of staring down the general. He reached up and tugged at Mac's sleeve. "You know he's going to huff and puff like the big bad wolf he thinks he is until you do what he says."

His request and attempt at lightening the mood seemed to do what Hammond's shouted command had not. Mac dropped into the chair next to Jack, looking much like a disgruntled, petulant teen summoned to the principal's office. Any other time Jack might have taken a moment to give him a hard time about the crossed arms and brooding glower. As it was, he focused on his former CO.

"I believe you were saying we had made one hell of a mess?"

"We all know who made this mess, Tombstone," Hammond snapped, as he too reclaimed his seat.

"I think you were about to tell us why you're here and how we nearly screwed up an operation no one cared to brief us on, General," Steve spoke up, saving Jack once more from a response he really didn't want to give. "I can't wait to hear how defending our lives can be equated as renegade actions."

"You were briefed." Hammond pointed a finger at Steve. "Your lovely governor's spiel on Miguel Quesan ringing a bell, water baby?"

Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "That meeting I had with the governor this morning was about my team taking point on a federal prisoner exchange. It had nothing to do with three Delta operators showing up on my island with an obvious agenda of their own." Steve gestured to Jack. "I'm not even going to start on my good old buddy dropping by or the fact his partner was shot and poisoned by a sociopath that I thought was dead until about twelve hours ago."

"Excuse me if I call bullshit on that one." Hammond adjusted his tie as he sat back in the seat, reclaiming his cool, calm front. Curie, who had gotten up from her spot on the floor after the general's first outburst, now placed her huge paws on his lap, bumping her head against his shoulder in a move Jack assumed was much more telling of the general's state than the image he was projecting. "I'm willing to bet my pension you knew Jonas wasn't dead that day we left Monterango, McGarrett."

"He didn't," Jack jumped in, not willing to let anyone else be blamed for what he now accepted was his costly mistake. This whole mess had come about because he'd acted on an impulse, instead of following an order. Consequences were snowballing out of control, and Jack felt helpless to keep everyone from being swept up in the avalanche. "I reported to him that I'd made that kill. He had no way of knowing that Jonas's brain wasn't splattered on the jungle floor."

"So you believed him?" Hammond flashed Steve a challenging look, ignoring Jack.

"At the time I figured Jonas got what he deserved." Steve shrugged, no hint of remorse reflected in his blue gaze, nor was there any sign of guilt. Of course Jack had witnessed the man endure two days of godforsaken torture and no so much as divulge his name to their captors. Hammond was going to have to turn up the heat if he expected McGarrett to admit to any wrongdoing. "After our meet-up today, it seems like that was true enough. Maybe a quick death would have been too good for the bastard."

"Yet, here he is, wreaking havoc all over again. Posing a threat to our country." Hammond ran a hand over Curie's broad head with a heavy sigh. He glanced at Mac. "Hurting more innocent people."

"That's not Jack's fault." Mac shifted in his seat, breath hitching slightly as he jostled his shoulder, his face once again pale. And despite the kid's declaration to the opposite, Jack not only felt very much accountable for all that was taking place, but especially liable for Mac's current state. "The only one to blame for my situation is Nobel."

"Nobel is only alive because Jack made a choice he shouldn't have made." Hammond gave a soft command for Curie to sit, so he could lean forward to the desk once more, meeting Mac's gaze with a firm disapproving look.

"Because soldiers aren't paid to think on their own," Mac also leaned forward. Jack knew his partner was every bit as determined as Hammond to make his point, but wasn't sure if Mac was in the condition to come up against the impenetrable block wall he knew his old commander to sometimes be. The whole situation was spiraling out of control, moving way out of the range of discussion about an operation. It was an old argument between the two from years ago. Jack might have missed the beginning of the ongoing disagreement between Mac and Hammond because of the fact he'd been in a light coma at the time, but he felt responsible for the fallout just the same, knowing it was his mission they'd battled over. "They should only think what the Army tells them to think."

"Jack violated a direct order during a high-level operation then lied about it, Son, and we both know how that turns out." To Hammond's credit, he didn't lose his temper this time.

"I did lie about the confirmed kill," Jack admitted, tired of being talked about as if he weren't in the room. He appreciated his partner's defense but it wasn't up to Mac to speak for something he knew nothing about, especially when he was injured and so plainly hurting. "But I didn't know for sure that Jonas was still alive. I did know his work was destroyed and that the other key players in the trade were dispatched."

"Except for Miguel Quesan, who had been the one to employ Jonas in the first place," Hammond pointed out. When he looked to Jack, the general's gaze had lost the bit of understanding he'd managed for Mac. "The man's as sadistic as they come, Tombstone, and God only knows what he was planning to use Nobel's work to accomplish."

"Yet the government seems very willing to make nice with him to get what they want," Danny spoke up from his position across the room. "Good old quid pro quo at its finest."

"The government is not making a deal with Miguel Quesan, Detective Williams." Hammond sent a withering glance in Danny's direction, one that spoke to just what he thought of the 'civilian' joining their private conversation. "There never was a deal. Thanks to an agent on the inside the DEA currently has all the information they need on Quesan's pipeline without pandering for Quesan's cooperation."

"Which would explain why they were less than forthcoming when Chin tried to reach out to them about details," Steve concluded, folding his arms over his chest in a move Jack recognized as his pissed but trying to keep his shit together in front of a superior stance.

"They've been cooperating with us, but have no interest or investment in this exchange," Hammond replied vaguely, folding his hands on the table top. "Quesan's currently a prisoner of war, even if he doesn't realize it. He'll go into cushy federal protection over my dead, flag-draped body."

"So this has all been some kind of elaborate reuse?" Mac asked, a flash of pain crossed his face. "You've been using Quesan to draw out Nobel?"

Hammond nodded. "Nobel has been our end game from the very beginning."

"How did you find out he was alive in the first place?" Jack asked, doing his best not to flinch when Hammond's dark gaze zeroed in on him.

"You mean how did I manage to discover the huge cover-up my former second in command managed to pull off right under my nose?" Hammond didn't give Jack a chance to answer before continuing. "That would be thanks to the DEA's deep cover plant, who related an American was being held in one of Quesan's shit-hole prisons and had escaped during the melee off the takeover." He sat up straighter, his fingers flattening on the table, the tips turning white. "I happen to be in a position where any hint of a POW or American hostage situation comes across my desk first. When I learned the location of said possible victim it was enough to get the wheels going. I knew Operation MOD had taken place near there and when I read the man's physical description, including a vivid detailing of the prisoner's scarred hands, I knew exactly what kind of monster Quesan had caged. It sure as hell wasn't a situation where an American hero needed to be rescued."

"So you didn't think about letting me in on the big secret? You let that bastard come after me, more importantly, you let him hurt Mac!" Jack's anger re-ignited. He moved to the edge of his seat, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that one of his oldest friends, a man he admittedly saw as a second father, might have used him and his partner as bait. "What the hell were you thinking, Ham?"

"I don't know, Jack," Hammond threw his hands up in the air in a gesture of complete frustration. "Maybe I was thinking I was going to try and cover your ass before your whole world was blown apart."

"Cover my ass? By serving up everything that's important to me on a platter for Jonas." Jack barely kept himself in check, remembering the night that he watched Mac go down from the bullet, a bullet that had delivered a toxin that was now doing all kinds of terrible things to the kid with Jack unable to do a thing about it.

"I didn't expect Jonas to come after you, damn it. Mac never entered into the equation. I honestly believed Quesan was enough to draw Nobel out in the open, especially when we learned Miguel's men wanted him dead before he could rat out any vital information that might harm their precious drug pipeline." His dark gaze briefly lighted on Steve before focusing back on Jack. "I set the meeting here in Hawaii to sweeten the deal, hoping it would be enough to entice Nobel out from under his rock and still have an upper hand in the deal."

"Because _I_ was in Hawaii? You planned to use meas bait instead, and didn't bother to even let me in on your plan?" Steve's tone hinted at an indignation Jack could completely understand. He hadn't made the mistake with Nobel in the first place, and here he was still being put in an impossible situation by a person he trusted.

"I had measures set in place to protect you, Steve." Hammond waved a hand to Pauley and Deacon still standing at the door, both men shifting under the new scrutiny. Jack didn't blame them considering they hadn't exactly stayed on top of their mark. "I went to great lengths to pull people from my former Unit. Men I knew could be trusted to watch your back."

"Where were The Jolly Green Giant and his buddy Sprout this morning when we were being assaulted by Jonas and his silent but deadly partner?" Danny asked a very good question.

"Jonas shook us in traffic but…" Pauley started only to have Hammond send him a glare Jack instantly recognized as the one that meant speaking was not appreciated or advisable.

"Not only did I have my men on you, and then on Jonas when we realized he'd made it to the island, but I contacted Joe White as soon as this whole mess started," Hammond continued. "He agreed with me that we should try and contain the information as much as possible, even if that meant you went into the meet with Quesan without the knowledge that Nobel was here."

"Why am I not surprised Joe White had a hand in this covert catastrophe?" Danny grumbled from the couch. "Can you people never try a face to face discussion instead of clandestine tactics?"

"Joe helped you set this up?" Steve asked Hammond, a frown of disbelief distorting face. Jack knew Joe well enough to know Perseus Hammond wasn't the only one who thought they ruled the world. There was something to be said for old war dogs and their even older bag of tricks.

"He was looking out for your best interest, son. You were in charge of Operation MOD. " Hammond's confirmation had Steve looking anything but appreciative, nor was his hissed 'sonofabitch' a good indication he was grateful for White's attempt to protect him. "Joe helped us set the meeting at a time when there was the least threat to those around you, when part of your team was off island, and when Williams' family was also away."

"But Nobel didn't come straight to Hawaii." Jack pointed out the flaw in their great plan. "He stopped in California first."

"Where he shot me, and provoked Jack into coming here, placing us both precisely in the middle of this situation that you did everything in your power to keep us from knowing about." Mac pinched the bridge of his nose. Jack noticed the dark smudges beneath the kid's eyes, the way he kept wincing. He longed to call an end to this forced debriefing, to get Mac as far as way from the insanity as possible.

"I had no idea the crazy bastard was in LA until I received that call from Thornton, Mac!" Hammond slapped both his hands on the desk, obviously tired of losing control of his meeting. Curie let out another low whine as she practically climbed in the general's lap obviously sensing her partner's emotions. Jack might have felt bad for putting his old friend in an extremely stressful situation if he hadn't held him partially responsible for Mac being put in harm's way in the first place. "Honestly when he didn't show up on the islands after leaving Venezuela I thought he might have turned tail and run, that maybe I'd misjudged his need to exact revenge. When you and your friend Bozer showed up, I did the only thing I could at that moment until I got a handle on the new situation which was to deny everything."

"That's very government cover up of you." Mac gave a disappointed shake of his head, his words bitter. "You're a much better actor than I remember, Ham."

"There are eyes everywhere, especially at the War College, and I wanted to contain as much fallout that I could. Telling you the truth at that point, Mac, would have made you as complicit in the action as Jack and anyone else who knew Nobel was alive after that farce of an operation."

"But then we realized I was poisoned, and that threw another wrench in your grand plan." Mac sounded more tired than pissed now. Jack didn't miss the fact he'd slumped a little in his chair, his face pinched with lines of pain.

"It sure as hell wasn't something I factored in the possible scenarios we ran," Hammond admitted, almost sounding weary. "It's why I gave you and Bozer the plane, and why I took a similar flight here right after you left."

"We're not soldiers in your Army anymore." Mac looked to Jack and back to Hammond. "You can't just play the puppeteer, manipulating us like pawn pieces on a chess board, expecting us to act out our roles without question."

"That's not exactly true." Hammond shot Jack a look that had Jack's stomach knotting and his pulse picking up. Now was not the time for more of Jack's house of cards tumbling down. It made him more desperate than ever to just grab Mac and get the hell out of Dodge.

"What does that mean?" Mac asked, his gaze briefly settling on Jack before moving once more to Hammond.

"That means that while you may be out of the Army, kid, Jack is not." Hammond didn't pull any punches, and if he hadn't known Mac was about to be blindsided yet again, Jack might have conceded that he deserved whatever Hammond threw out at him. The general didn't even bother giving Jack a regretful look as he spilled the whole sorted tale. "He's currently commissioned and therefore is still accountable to me and others for his actions, both past and present."

"Jack's been out of the service for almost five years." Mac gripped the arms of his seat, sitting up straighter. "Since we took the assignment at DXS. The Army doesn't have any hold over him anymore."

"Hammond," Jack started, wondering where the general's desire for damage control was currently. Hammond merely held up a hand to cut Jack's protest off and continued on.

"Do you really think those positions appeared out of thin air, Mac? I know how unbelievably smart you are, son, and I have a hard time believing you bought Jack's simple-minded story even back then in the state you were in."

"He told me you worked something out." Mac chanced a glance at Jack, one that sent a spike of anguish straight to Jack's soul, as it was colored with an emotion that Jack recognized as good old doubt, something Mac hadn't shown Jack in years.

"And that something I worked out involved Jack staying on with Delta in a certain capacity for a specific amount of missions." Hammond glanced to where Danny now sat silently watching the unravelling of another of Jack's well-intentioned choices, right along with everyone else in the room. Jack could practically feel Steve's gaze drilling a hole, knew that if he'd turned around Pauley would be studying the ceiling considering he'd tried to talk Jack out of the deal in the first place. Jack hoped Deacon might be sending up a quick prayer to a God Jack wasn't even sure would lift a finger if it meant helping a good for nothing, lying killer like him. "A perfect example of that quid pro quo that Detective Williams mentioned earlier."

"What's he talking about Jack?" Mac pinned Jack with a look that left no room for the older agent to beat around the bush.

"I may have left out a few details about the ins and outs of how I managed to toss that big old mountain I promised you I'd move to get us out of the desert." Jack tried for a half grin, which he quickly dropped when Mac's blue eyes glinted like ice. His shoulders tensed.

"A few details?" Mac winced, bringing a hand to rub at his temple as if Jack's confession had just brought on a massive headache, his face grew paler. "Details about missions?"

"It's not as duplicitous as Hammond makes it sound, brother, and it's definitely not something we need to hash out right now when we have a hell of lot more problems to deal with." Jack tried for damage control. "It was a small price to pay."

"How many?" Mac's wounded look was practically Jack's undoing.

"Five." Jack hesitated. "For each of us."

Mac turned back to Hammond, obviously unsatisfied with his partner's explanation. "You're telling me Jack basically made a deal with the devil to get us, more specifically, _me_ , out of Afghanistan and you helped him do it." Mac was still touching his head, his voice a bit strained and his breath had quickened. "Now those same people that greased the wheels aren't so happy that one of Jack's former targets is still breathing because it might cast a shadow of doubt on the work he's done for them since."

"That's a fairly accurate summary." Hammond glanced somewhat sympathetically from Mac to Jack. "Let's just say some of the influential people Jack still owes a service to are concerned that their 'go to guy' didn't finish a job he said that he took care of almost nine years ago. It doesn't lend the best credibility to the other work he's done since then and they strongly suggested we fix this situation or Jack's contract with them could become null and void. The words AWOL and Court-martial were tossed on the table."

"I've completed every job that's been given to me over the last five years." Jack was the one on his feet now, his mind racing with implications that this new threat might hold for him, and more importantly for Mac. "They're not reneging on our deal at this point."

"Not if we make this thing with Nobel go away." Hammond arched a brow.

"I'm not killing Nobel until I have the antidote for Mac." Jack would take whatever punishment doled out as long as his best friend was cured. He sent another worried glance in Mac's direction.

"He's not killing anyone period!" Mac clarified, attempting to stand. He didn't quite make it.

"Mac?" Jack watched his partner double over, both hands gripping his head as he let out a gasp of pain. Jack moved quickly, catching the kid before his knees hit the floor. He felt the butterfly bandages across the gash in his side give and bit back on his own groan as he fought to keep them both from going down. Steve was suddenly at Mac's other side, helping Jack ease the kid back in the chair.

Jack took a knee in front of his partner. "Mac? Talk to me. What's going on, bud?"

"My head." Mac managed, before he tipped forward, his forehead resting against Jack's chest. Jack caught his shoulders, trying to hold him up. Trough the thin fabric of Mac's t-shirt Jack could feel the heat radiating off the kid. He turned to Steve. "Get an ambulance."

"No!" Mac reached up and clutched the front of Jack's shirt, his too bright, blue eyes momentarily meeting Jack's before he squeezed them shut again. "You promised."

Jack swore under his breath remembering their deal about no hospitals. He glanced at Steve, who had pulled his cell phone and was waiting for Jack to give the word.

"Is there someone you can call, somebody 'doctor-like'?" Jack asked, and then quickly added. "Anyone but Kamekona and his shrimp truck of many services."

"I think I know someone." Steve stepped away to make the call.

"Is he alright?" Hammond took his place, Pauley hovering just behind him.

"You don't get to be concerned." Jack flashed his former CO an angry glare, knowing it probably wasn't fair but not caring at the moment with his hands full of a hurting Mac. "Pauley, grab that trashcan."

Jack's instincts paid off because he'd barely taken the bin from Pauley and sat it at his best friend's feet when Mac tossed his cookies, looking even more pale and miserable when he was able to lift his head once more.

"How you doing, kiddo?" Jack squeezed Mac's shoulder as the kid took a shaky breath.

"I'm okay, now." Mac still had his fingers twisted in the fabric of Jack's shirt, his knuckles nearly white, so Jack found it a little hard to take him at his word.

"You sure?" The kid was shivering. Jack reached his free hand up and pressed it against Mac's forehead. "You've got the start of a good fever."

For a brief moment Mac closed his eyes. "It's on the list." Mac He gave a small nod, pulling away from Jack's hand and finally letting go of Jack's shirt. "The pain's not so bad now."

"This is from the poison?" Hammond asked, his grim gaze held new determination.

"Or Mac was just really sick of hearing you drone on and on about your shitty plan." Jack squeezed Mac's shoulder once more before rocking back on his heels, bringing a hand to his aching side. He wasn't surprised when he felt the wetness of his shirt, blood from where'd he'd reopened the knife wound. It pissed him off even more. "Either way, I'm holding you partially responsible."

"We'll fix this." Hammond swore. Curie let out a whine, maneuvering her giant body between Hammond and Mac's chair.

"No more of you two fixing things." Mac gave the general a hard look, letting his hand come to rest on Curie's head. He fixed Jack with a glower that was equally if not more fierce. "I mean it, Jack."

Danny appeared before Jack or Hammond could say anymore. He had a bottle of water which he offered to Mac. "I thought you might need this."

"Thanks." Mac took the water with a shaky hand. Jack had to stop himself from reaching out to help. After a couple of sips, the kid put the cap back on the bottle, his glassy gaze going back to Danny who was still hovering. "I could use some space and maybe some fresh air."

"After this meeting, I can understand that." Danny tilted his head, his gaze going briefly to Steve who had stepped to the far end of the office, still on his phone. "Can I give you a hand?"

"I've got it." Jack stood, more than willing to help his partner outside. He could use the distance from Hammond himself. He reached to help Mac up.

"No." The unforgiving glare Mac shot him cut worse than the knife Jonas had wielded, the way he dodged Jack's touch stinging far worse than the reopened wound on Jack's side. It was beyond DEFCON Walls Up. There was a barrier in the hurt blue gaze that Jack hadn't witnessed in a long time, not since that first meet-up when Mac hadn't known Jack at all. "I just need to be somewhere else, anywhere you're not."

"For your safety, I'll take the KO Kid from here." Despite Danny's snark, he shot Jack a sympathetic look as he helped Mac out of the chair and towards the door. Mac's knees buckled once but didn't give out. Jack ached to move forward to help but kept himself glued in place, still shell-shocked by his best friend's understandable, but unexpected rebuke.

"Jack?" Pauley cast a glance after Mac.

"He's in good hands." Hammond was the one to answer the unvoiced question. "Just get the door for them."

"So much for telling him the truth," Jack said to no one in particular as he watched his best friend leave the office with Danny. Pauley moved to hold the door as Deacon looked unsure of what he should do to help.

"Maybe if you'd listened to me and told him sooner, we wouldn't be in this sticky…"

"So help me, If you say sticky wicket I will forget all the times you saved my life and the fact that you outrank me by a whole hell of a bunch of stripes and whoop your know it all ass right here and now." Jack snarled, cutting Hammond off.

"As much as I'd really like to see you try that, brother, I'm going to give you some leeway considering the fact you already look like a kid who lost just lost his favorite dog."

"Mac's not a damn Golden Retriever, Hammer!" Jack roughly slid both hands through his hair, wincing when his side protested the harsh move. He glanced at the Great Pyrenees faithfully leaning against the general's legs, her big dark eyes darting between the two men. "No offense, Curie."

"No, he's the little brother you never knew you always wanted."

"Right." Jack slid a hand over his mouth, his stomach twisting in a way that had him wondering if he might be the one soon in need of the trash can. He looked to Steve who was still talking on the phone, hopefully getting someone to take a look at Mac ASAP. "And now we know why God had the good sense not to give me one."

"So you screwed up," Hammond huffed, scratching Curie's ear. "Who the hell hasn't? The kid will forgive you." His laser-like gaze finding Jack's once more. "Forgive us both, if we just give him some time."

"That's the problem, Ham." Jack looked to the door where Mac had walked through with Danny, to the outside office beyond where he could see Bozer now animatedly talking with the two of them. Even from this distance he could see the concern etched on Bozer's face, the stubborn set of Mac's shoulder as he shrugged off the mother-henning that was no doubt about to occur. For the first time in a very long time Jack felt very much the outsider. He couldn't even blame the years of friendship Bozer and Mac had before he'd come along. Jack had managed this stumbling block all on his own, and the worst part was the fact he could very well not have the chance to fix it. He glanced at Hammond, the general's concern gaze only making him feel worse. "Until we get that antidote, time is definitely not on our side."


	9. Chapter 9

Guard Your Heart Chapter 10

By: Ridley

A/N: I had hoped to update this every Friday, but it has been two weeks and I do apologize for my crazy busy schedule. Thanks to Mary, who added so much to this chapter and talked me off several ledges as I was writing it. This may indeed by the last crossover I do! Lol As always, thanks for the extremely kind and generous reviews. PS. Forgive my interpretation of Dr. Noelani Cunha, from Five-0. The new M.E. hasn't been on enough episodes for me to really get a feel for her so I truly stretched what I had gleaned into my own idea of her character.

RcJ

"How you doing, slugger?" Danny asked Mac once they had made their way down the stairs and out a back entrance of the Ali'iolani Hale building, where Five-O offices were housed.

"I don't feel like my brain is still trying to exceed the confines of my skull by squeezing through my eye sockets, so I'm considering that an improvement." Mac briefly pressed a steadying hand to the rough brick wall. He wasn't going to mention that his legs were protesting the short walk, muscles on fire as if he'd been climbing flights of stairs instead of descending the meager one set or that he was out of breath from the short trek despite running five miles on most days without much strain on his cardio capacity. There was also the waves of nausea that kept rolling over him every so often, making his head swim, his mouth water.

"Sorry it's not an ocean front view but I figured you weren't up to a long car ride." Danny sent a quick side lace in Mac's direction.

"The less motion the better." Mac took a deep breath of the fresh air.

"Although, The Iolani Palace just beyond the iconic statue is one of the most important landmarks in Hawaii." Danny pointed out the statue of King Kamehameha to Mac as they claimed a bench just outside the basement door. "Don't take this lowly Hauli's word for it, it's in all the brochures."

"Hauli?" Mac asked, thankful just to be sitting down, outside in the waning sunshine and to be away from Hammond's disastrous meeting. There was a breeze, keeping the late afternoon heat from being overpowering and he could feel his racing pulse start to slow as he took in the lush green surroundings, the swaying palms lining the street. A slight shiver ran through him despite the warmth of the sun.

"It's slang for non-native Caucasian." Danny smiled, looking back at Mac. "Trust me, if you're around long enough, you'll hear it once or twice. When I first moved here I answered to it more than my actual name as I was one of the few non-native officers on the police force."

"I've never been to the islands." Mac realized as he said it that Hawaii was one of the few states he'd missed out on in his years of work with DXS and now Phoenix. "Though I've visited all the continents."

"That's impressive at your age. Did you become the world traveler when you were five?" Danny relaxed against the back of the bench, kicking his legs out to cross them at the ankles.

Mac rolled his eyes. He was used to the jabs about his youthful appearance. "Let's just say I was an early bloomer."

"Which is your favorite?"

"North America," Mac answered truthfully, appreciating the small talk as it kept him from focusing on the pain in his legs and recalling the agony that had spiked through his head earlier. The pain had caught him off guard. If he was honest, it scared him more than he was willing to admit. "Specifically California and then Colorado. Although believe it or not, I have a heart for Texas."

"Texas?" Danny gave a look that Jack would have taken as a great offense to his home state. "You ever been to Jersey?"

"Jack and I once chased a suspected terrorist around Coney Island." Mac glanced at Danny. "Straight through the annual Mermaid parade. I found glitter in my hair for weeks. After we caught the bad guy, Jack lied to our Director about losing his phone on the chase so we could go back for Nathan's hotdogs, cotton candy, and to ride the Cyclone."

"I hope you rode the Cyclone first." Danny raised a brow.

"That would have been the sensible thing, but Jack Dalton never does things the easy way." Mac felt sick again at the mere memory. He'd learned the hard way that one should never eat three hotdogs, a cone of cotton candy, and then ride a rollercoaster. Despite being a few shades of green when they finished that night, Mac couldn't deny it was one of his favorite memories. The fact that Jack, albeit stubborn and beyond impossible, was also always trying to make up for anything he perceived that Mac might have somehow missed out on as a kid added to the roiling in Mac's gut.

"I can see that." Danny nodded, a look of understanding in his gaze. "I think I've been partnered with his clone for the last seven years."

"Then you have my sympathy." Mac didn't mean to sound quite so angry, Jack's latest revelation still too fresh. The lingering headache from his earlier episode wasn't helping matters nor was the knowledge another could strike him at any time. He fought off another shiver. Danny didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he'd had enough revelations with his own partner to understand where Mac was coming from. "I've been Jack's partner for almost five years and sometimes it seems like twenty."

"Marriage works that way, although admittedly Steve and I have lasted longer than me and my ex-wife." Danny sighed. Mac was glad he didn't have to comment on the detective's particular comparison when Danny continued on. "So you two met in the Army?"

"In Afghanistan." Mac nodded, not feeling the need to elaborate. Most people usually had two responses to finding out he was a vet. They either clammed up, looking unsure as to what to say so not to set off some terrible chain reaction, or they made generic, often misinformed comments about the war. Danny did neither.

"I've seen Steve in a couple of combat situations but have never truly witnessed the Super SEAL in his natural settings. I liken it to watching a National Geographic special instead of being in the heart of the jungle alongside the lion when he pounces on an unknowing gazelle." Danny shifted slightly, bending his knee. For a moment his gaze was distant before focusing back on Mac.

"It's something you definitely have to experience firsthand to truly appreciate. Delta is beyond impressive." Mac worked to keep the awe from his voice, his respect and affection for The Unit as neutral as possible in light of what had just transpired. "The things they can accomplish, the missions they complete, is beyond what most mere mortals can even imagine let along conceptualize. I'm guessing SEALs are the same kind of beast."

"From what I hear you did some pretty impressive things in the desert as well." Danny's tone wasn't intrusive, hinting at a mild curiosity which Mac imagined was more to distract him from his current misery than satisfy any questions the detective might have.

"Not really." Mac returned his gaze back to his study of Kamehameha, resisting the urge to reach up and touch his shoulder wound when it pulled from his attempt at a nonchalant shrug. "I was an EOD tech. I diffused a lot of bombs."

"Dalton said hundreds."

Mac would have shaken his head if he hadn't known how bad it would hurt. The gentle breeze suddenly had a cold touch to it, and he had to wonder if it was just him when Danny seemed unaffected. "Jack sometimes has an inflated view where I'm concerned."

"Whether it was one or a thousand doesn't really take away from the feat. You see, I, and most normal humans in general, would try and stay as far away as possible from anything with the capability to blow us apart." Mac was sure Danny wasn't intentionally calling him an idiot but he still recalled Jack's quip about the detective's love language being one of insults. "So I find your choice to seek out such devices and attempt to disarm them before they can go boom as something not only insane, but pretty extraordinary." Danny shook his head slightly. "I can't quite wrap my mind around why you'd choose to do something like that."

"You and pretty much everyone else I know." Mac sent another glance to Danny. He was used to the question, hearing it from his advisors at MIT, Bozer, and even his grandfather. In fact, it was one he'd end up asking himself after a couple of tours of being shot at, sniped at, and watching his friends sacrifice blood and body parts on the battlefield. He raked a hand through his hair as unwanted memories threatened to resurface, bringing about a childish need to have Jack in sight. There was a good reason he didn't talk about his time in the Army. "Jack would probably tell you I thought I could somehow fix the whole war by applying all the knowledge stored in my ginormous brain and that I somehow felt it was my responsibility to at the most attempt to save the world, or at the least spare as many lives as possible."

"I think he did slip your IQ and heart of gold into our conversation a few times." Danny smirked. "The word altruistic genius was thrown about as well, although he admitted my five-year old son was probably a better T-ball player than you and my teenage daughter might have a better grip on social norms."

"A guy can't have it all." Mac's mouth twitched. He doubted Jack conceded the points about Mac's athleticism and ability to handle himself with his peers so easily. "But if you got Jack to admit I have a few downfalls you're doing better at keeping him honest than most people."

"For a real tough guy he does seem to have quite the MacGyver shaped soft spot." Danny's segue might have been casual but Mac had a sneaking suspicion the detective was leading them straight into a conversation about what had taken place with General Hammond. "But I guess even Superman had his kryptonite."

"Jack sees himself as more the Winter Soldier." Mac fiddled with loose threat at the hem of his shirt, ignoring the slight shaking of his hand. He understood his partner better than most anyone. Mac had never been naïve about what Jack was capable of doing, having been immersed in Delta from the get go, nor was he blind to the fact Jack would do just about anything for the people he loved. Mac was at the top of the list of those he'd go to the ends of the Earth to protect. It was how Mac knew keeping his distance from his partner when Jack knew Mac was in trouble was a bit underhanded and probably more than a little passive aggressive on his part.

"A hero with a dark side."

"If dedication to duty can be considered a dark side." Mac was pretty certain Jack's pursuit of doing what he felt right sometimes blurred into the anti-hero status, but it had saved his life countless times so he wasn't about to point fingers.

"That depends." Danny gave Mac a thoughtful glance. "A duty to his country or a duty to you?"

Mac shrugged again, wincing when the motion sent a spike through his shoulder and up his neck which in turn increased the pounding in his skull. "Both I guess."

"Because what a guy will do for his country, for an idea like patriotism or justice, is a little different than the lengths he'll go to for flesh and bone family." Danny gestured to the badge clipped to his belt. "I will go above and beyond to protect and serve the citizens of Hawaii, but there are some lines I won't cross, well, unless Steve drags me kicking and screaming across them, which I will tell you has been the case on several occasions. I did not willingly become his partner by the way, the man hijacked me and has pretty much held me in bonded servitude ever since."

"It's beginning to sound like I might not have truly understood what I was signing on for when I became Jack's partner either." Mac swallowed hard as he thought about those 'details' Jack never bothered to discuss with him, facts that admittedly Mac hadn't seen to inquire about at any great length. He wasn't sure if Jack telling him what he was willing to sacrifice would have made much of a difference. Mac still might have grasped it like the life line he now realized it had been.

"I don't know anything more than what your friend the scary general let loose in there, and it is obviously not any of my business, but it sounds to me like your buddy Jack was willing to do whatever it took to get you out of a very bad situation."

"Not much about Afghanistan was good," Mac conceded. It was quite possibly the understatement of the century but he wasn't about to go into specifics of what it was like there. He knew that it wasn't just the physical location that Jack had been concerned about, or even the insane war constantly raging around them. Mac's mental state was as precarious and as primed to bring certain destruction as any bomb he might have uncovered in the sand, his psyche as much a threat as any poised enemy sniper.

"Then as an older brother myself, I can tell you that I once tried very hard to save my kid brother, Matty, from a very, very bad place. I can understand Dalton's desperate determination to do the same. It's something we brothers are hard-wired for." Danny's gaze became distant once more, Mac recognizing the flash of pain before the detective quickly recovered.

"Jack and I aren't brothers." Even as Mac said it he felt a stab of guilt at his tendency for literal interpretation, to seek the safety pure statistics often provided him. It was fact that Jack might not have shared DNA with Mac, but it was also truth that he was his brother in every way that mattered.

"I think we both know that blood doesn't always define that role." Danny shot Mac a sideway glance. "Not so long ago I pulled a vital organ from my own body and sacrificed half of it to that ungrateful maniac, Steve McGarrett." At Mac's incredulous look, Danny explained, "Well, technically a surgeon removed my liver and divvied it up between us, but still, the point is, I would do anything and everything in my capability to save him, go to any lengths, to never fail him the way I did Matty."

Mac didn't have an opportunity to respond because the door to the exit swung open and a breathless, but highly dynamic Bozer emerged. "There you are."

"Here we are," Danny waved a hand to encompass the bench they were sitting on. "Just where we informed you we were going to be."

If Bozer noted the sarcasm he ignored it, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "Mac's doctor is here."

"I said I didn't need a doctor," Mac protested, hoping Jack didn't make another decision for the both of them without consulting his partner.

"That's good, because Noelani is a forensic anthropologist." Danny braced his hands on his knees and stood, waiting for Mac to make it up on his own before gesturing to the door. "Currently she's our resident medical examiner."

"The _coroner_ is waiting in Jerry's office." The look Bozer shot Mac told of just how he felt about his friend's decision not to seek a doctor's care. Mac couldn't explain his rationale either, seeing as how it was mostly semantics but for the fact that doctors usually required you actually come to their place of business and paramedics wanted to take you with them if you were in a condition as grave as Mac's. Mac was determined not to leave headquarters. He swayed slightly as he stood but quickly regained his balance, sending Bozer a withering glare that stopped his friend from trying to help.

"You mean his cave," Danny corrected. "We don't let the giant roam around up top too much because he scares the villagers."

Mac wouldn't have cared if it was a lair or a dungeon, merely pleased it offered much more privacy than all the glassed enclosures upstairs affording a panoramic view to anyone in Five-O headquarters. The War Room at Phoenix was similar, but at least at their headquarters one was offered complete concealment with only a touch of a finger on the self-concealing glass.

"Agent MacGyver this is Dr. Noelani Cunha." Danny introduced the dark-haired, serious-faced woman who was waiting for them in the small basement area when they stepped inside.

"Agent MacGyver." Dr. Noelani approached Mac with what he read as trepidation and more than a fair bit of fluster. "I hope Detective Williams explained to you that I'm a forensic pathologist first and foremost and before being summoned here to Five-0 repeatedly as their pseudo team physician I was rarely accustomed to making house calls unless it was to visit to a murder scene. I feel I must inform you that I'm much more in my element working with corpses."

"He mentioned that." Mac forced a grin he didn't quite feel. "The part about you being a pathologist, that is."

"As you can see we chose the lovely Noelani not for her exceptional bedside manner, but rather her frankness and bold delivery which suits our team dynamics." Danny motioned for Mac and Dr. Cunha to proceed him into Jerry's small office, which was the only open door in the hallway. "She is however an excellent M.E., and despite her severe modesty, she's quite competent at stitches and IV's. She also has access to the good drugs, which if you work with Steve McGarrett, one comes to appreciate."

"I'm only making certain Agent MacGyver is informed of my credentials, Detective." Dr. Cunha seemed to feel the need to explain her candor as she picked up a bag near her feet, Bozer grabbing another box she'd brought with her, and moved into the area with practices ease.

"It's okay, Doctor," Mac followed Cunha in, easing himself onto the couch across from Jerry's desk. He didn't quite trust his legs to hold him of the own accord much longer, still a bit shaky from earlier. "Please, just call me, Mac and if it makes you feel any better I just may be closer to your typical clientele than it would first seem."

"Don't listen to him, Doc," Bozer jumped in. He put the box down and reached out to shake Noelani's hand. "I'm Wilt Bozer, Mac's oldest friend. Trust me when I say he thinks he's completely rational and all scientific, but actually he tends to be a bit pessimistic when he's tired and hungry and out of sync with his sometimes insane partner, Jack, whom if you met the man, you'd know it's a miracle Mac isn't constantly in a state of aggravation."

"Bozer." Mac gave his roommate a pointed look.

"Lietenant Commander McGarrett informed me you had been compromised by a synthetic toxin specifically designed to terminate its victim." For a moment Noelani looked even more confused by the onslaught of trivial information and Mac felt the pounding in his head pick up cadence. He was, however, quite sure it was from Bozer's unhelpful insights than another sign the drug he'd been given was picking up momentum. The doctor turned her studious gaze on Mac.

"That would be correct." Mac answered before Bozer could attempt a rose-colored slant on the fact he was indeed poisoned and technically dying as they spoke. "Bozer, here, believes in the power of positive thinking."

"I read the work-up sent from your lab in California." Noelani checked the tablet in her hand as if she had somehow been sent the wrong file from Phoenix, Mac guessed at Jack's prompting. "I'm afraid nothing short of an antidote will keep your vital organs from shutting down. In fact I concur with their findings in that the cyanide like properties of this synthetic will most likely deplete vital oxygen from your blood cells, resulting in a type of internal asphyxiation. It's why I told the Lt. Commander that you should be in a hospital, not being watched and treated symptomatically, by a forensic pathologist nonetheless."

Mac had heard the findings first hand for himself over the phone from Thornton, but hearing it from a clinician in person caught him a bit off guard, especially with an echo of the pain he'd felt earlier along with the fear it had left in its wake still reverberating through his skull. His first instinct was to look to the door, not to find a way out, which one might have thought would be his first inclination, but to see if Jack was close by, even though Mac had taken measures to make sure that wasn't the case, a choice he now regretted.

"Did I mention how stubborn he is," Bozer interjected again, completely ignoring the doctor's assessment, and distracting Mac from his thoughts of his partner and the completely irrational and childish desire to have him within his line of sight. "I said he should be in the hospital from the beginning, but oh no…"

"Bozer." Mac once more sent his well-meaning friend a look he hoped conveyed his patience level was waning and that his commentary wasn't helping matters. Mac's nerves were zinging and his typical ability to compartmentalize and see, even extremely personal situations with a practiced detachment, was waning under the stress. "How about you go back upstairs and see if Jerry needs help with the tactical support he's overseeing?"

Mac had no idea what Jerry was doing or if there were even any plans for tactical support at this point, but he knew he needed a moment to reclaim some space and dispatching Bozer to any other place than the area in which Mac was seeking temporary refuge was his only true objective.

"Or," Danny offered. "You and Jerry could make yourselves extremely helpful and go get dinner for the team, seeing as how your buddy Mac isn't the only one who gets hangry. Jerry is the perfect person to introduce you to some of the culinary delights on the island like a Teriyaki Spam burger, or if your more adventurous, a Spam corndog for instance."

"The Pineapple Room has an excellent Beef Wellington with Spam porcini Duvelle," Dr. Cunha added helpfully. If Mac wasn't mistaken the woman looked almost as eager as Mac to have Bozer occupied with another task.

"Spam corndogs?" Bozer's eyes lit up, but he shot Mac a conflicted look, torn between indulging in his culinary curiosity and being the stalwart best friend.

"I think I could go for one of those," Mac lied, his stomach protesting at the mere thought of anything compressed, battered and deep fried. He took a deep, slow breath. "It would probably be a big help to everyone seeing as how we'll more than likely be here a while."

"If you're sure you'll be okay until I get back." Bozer glanced from Mac to the doctor.

"The toxin's timeline, although difficult to pin down, shouldn't run its course within the next twenty-four hours," Noelani assured.

"I'm not sure if I should celebrate that estimation, but I will still tell Jerry we should put a rush on it." Bozer gave Mac one more uncertain glance. "I'll be back before you know it."

Much like Bozer hadn't enthusiastically embraced Dr. Cunha's timeframe, Mac wasn't sure if he should applaud his friend's, but he faked a smile just the same. "Can't wait."

"You want a burger or are you feeling adventurous, Detective Williams?" Bozer asked Danny as he started for the door of Jerry's office.

"How about you surprise me." Danny gave a small salute. "Maybe hit Chin up for some cash on the way out. McGarrett never brings his wallet to work."

"Thank you," Mac told Danny as Bozer closed the door behind him. He glanced to the Doctor who was busy digging through the box Bozer had brought in for her. "I appreciate you understanding the situation."

"Are you referring to your obvious dislikes of doctors and hospitals, which I can completely get behind having recently spent an obscene amount of time under a physician's care, or the fact your buddy, Bozer is a bit like the Energizer bunny with boundary issues."

"Both." Mac gave a light laugh, which sounded hollow even to him and sent an unwelcome jolt through his body. "He's a good guy, he just tends to get a little dramatic."

"I totally get dramatic. I have a teenage daughter."

"Lt. Commander McGarrett informed me that you're up on your chemistry." Dr. Cunha approached Mac with what Mac recognized as the type of thermometer they used at the doctor's office, the one that slid across the forehead for a reading.

"I know enough," Mac hedged. "It was one of my majors at MIT."

"MIT?" Danny arched a brow. "And a double major?"

"Don't be too impressed." Mac gave a half smile, hunching his shoulders a little. "I didn't graduate."

"Successful matriculation or not, from what I understand you should know enough to realize that giving you any medicine, including something for pain, might be ill advised, until it's absolutely necessary." Noelani slid the thermometer over the skin between Mac's eyebrows and his hairline, her mouth drawing into a frown as she read the numbers.

"It's hard to predict how they might react with the synthetic formula of unknown origin." Mac watched Danny's eyes widen slightly as he gauged the number of thermometer over Dr. Cunha's shoulder.

"Are you sure you used that right?" Danny inquired casually, but Mac picked up on the concern in his gaze.

"I know I'm typically gauging rigor mortis and lividity but I am comfortable taking temperatures although not usually in this manner." Noelani looked from Mac to Danny. "I don't think Mac would appreciate my typical means of doing that at this point in his examination."

"No." Mac was quick to shake his head, ignoring the new spike of pain it brought. He knew precisely the way in which an accurate temperature of a corpse was most often gauged at the crime scene. It was not orally. "No I would not."

"Then this method will have to suffice." Noelani put the thermometer to the side and glanced at Mac once more. "Your temperature is reading 101.3."

"That would explain why I feel pretty crappy." Mac could hear the exhaustion in his own voice. Partly due to the fact he'd made two flights across the country in a matter of twenty four hours without much rest , but he wasn't foolish enough to ignore the effects of the toxin.

"Only in part, I'm afraid," The doctor replied and Mac was beginning to understand what Danny meant about the ME's bluntness. "I imagine the poison has been in your system long enough to start making itself problematic, but the fever will only complicate matters, causing lethargy, muscle cramps, and nausea among other things." She tapped her chart a few times, not looking up as she added, "If it rises much higher or your pain reaches a point to bring on shock we may have to risk the use of drugs to counter both conditions."

"You could always use essential oils to bring his fever down," Danny suggested, surprising Mac. Admittedly he didn't know the detective very well but Danny did not strike him as the holistic type. "Maybe Peppermint or Lemongrass oil. There's even some to help with the pain and nausea as I found out during a particularly nasty hangover last year after my surprise birthday party."

"That's actually not a bad idea." Dr. Cunha sounded as shocked as Mac.

"What?" Danny waved away their twin looks of astonishment. "My girlfriend, Melissa, happens to be into the whole yoga, berries, twigs and natural hocus pocus healing stuff. I could have Jerry stop by her place while he's out and pick up her bag of tricks if you think it might help."

"Thanks." Mac was all for trying anything natural before further compromising his system with a harsher medicine that might wreak even more havoc on his organs. "That would be great."

"I'll just head up and give her a call." Danny glanced at Mac, cell phone already in his hand. "That is if you're okay with me leaving you in Dr. Cunha's capable hands."

"I'm good." Mac said, giving the detective an affirmative nod.

"How are you really feeling?" Dr. Cunha asked when Danny had made it out of Jerry's office, pulling the door closed behind him. "Commander McGarrett said you had some kind of episode?"

"I don't know what it was." Mac admitted, rubbing his hands on the legs of his pants in what he recognized as a nervous gesture. Scary as hell were some words that came to mind, but he knew that wasn't the clinical description the doctor was after. "My head suddenly felt like it was caught in a vice only to have a hot knife driven through my skull. I've had some bad headaches, but nothing like that. I came close to blacking out."

"Were you sick afterwards?" Noelani asked, making a few notes on her chart.

"Yes." Mac still had a bad taste in his mouth. He should have kept the water Danny had given him.

"What other symptoms have you experienced?"

"Some dizziness, shortness of breath, and a burning sensation in my legs and arms, almost like I've been working out."

"Could you remove your shirt?" Noelani moved to dig in her box again, pulling out a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. Mac wondered if she'd kept the supplies from medical school or stocked up on them for Five-0. He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, feeling suddenly very vulnerable and wishing Jack might have been there to make some kind of inappropriate crack about Noelani wanting to get Mac naked, or even tease Mac about needing to bulk up if he was ever going to have a chance of impressing the ladies when they had Jack for an option.

"Is that a gunshot wound?" Dr. Cunha asked as she placed the cuff around his left arm, staring at the blood pressure gauge instead of meeting Mac's gaze.

"Yes." The question and discomfort of the cuff as it tightened had Mac subconsciously brushing his fingers over the recent sutures. Images from the night he'd been targeted flooded his mind-Jack's distraught face making the biggest impression, staying with Mac after the others faded. He blinked hard, clearing his throat. "From a couple of days ago."

"The risk of infection is much greater with your system compromised," Noelani informed him as she placed the stethoscope against Mac's chest, moving it to several different spots before removing it completely.

"Garlic and oregano, besides tasting really great in spaghetti, are natural infection fighters." Mac gave the doctor a half grin.

Noelani didn't return his smile or look particularly impressed with his attempt to lighten the mood. Instead she removed a very nasty looking syringe and some vials. "I'm afraid your condition is going to continue to deteriorate, at a faster rate than in the first twenty-four hour window."

"The designer could have created it to reach maximum impact after a slow build." Mac found it harder than usual to reclaim his usual detached observations. "From what I understand he's a brilliant chemist and rather sadistic."

"I need to take new blood samples and do a more current work-up, which I'll share with your colleagues at Phoenix." Noelani met his gaze, waiting for Mac to give his consent before tying off the tubing around his arm. "I'll have to return to my lab and I need to pick up an IV and oxygen tank that a friend of mine at the hospital is going to let us use."

"Could you do me a favor before you go?" Mac asked, watching his blood fill the first vial. He chose not to think about the doctor's assumption they would be needing oxygen and an IV at some point. "My partner… he was stabbed earlier today and I think he might have torn the bandages loose. Knowing him, he won't even think about it. Jack likes to brag about his inhuman tolerance for pain." He glanced up at the doctor. "I'm a little worried about the initial treatment considering from what I understand some shrimp guy patched him up the first time around."

"Kamekona." Noelani rolled her eyes, showing more emotion than Mac had seen. "That man should stick with wearing one hat, his Chef's one."

"So, you'll take a look at Jack?" Mac might have been mad at his partner, but like Danny had pointed out, brother's had an innate, inescapable drive to put each other's welfare above anything else, even their own justified anger.

"On one condition." Dr. Cunha gave Mac a pointed look as she finished the last vial, capping it before pressing some gauze onto the needle mark, taping it and releasing Mac's arm. It was the kind of purposive stare that Thornton sometimes gave him when she was about to give an order she doubted Mac would follow. It made Mac think Jack might have had a conversation of his own with the ME before she'd made it downstairs. "You take it easy and actually rest while I'm gone."

"There's a lot to be…" Mac started only to have the woman stand and fold her arms over her chest.

"You heard Detective Williams." Dr. Cunha showed no sign of wavering. "My stitching is masterful, and I have a beautiful stash of opiates at my disposal. If you want me to patch up your partner then you'll agree to my terms. We can renegotiate after I get a look at your blood work."

"You drive a hard bargain," Mac resignedly conceded.

"Don't be too impressed. I'm used to winning." Dr. Cunha smiled for the first time since arriving. "Most of my patients aren't capable of arguing with me, let alone are they typically in any condition to go against doctor's orders."

"That being said, how do I know the minute I'm asleep you won't put a tag on my toe and slide me into one of Jerry's filing cabinets?" Mac opted for some of Noelani's morgue humor. He picked up his shirt, carefully slipping it back on, unable to deny the sudden desperate pull he felt to close his eyes. There was the slightest hope that maybe he'd wake up and feel miraculously better. Perhaps he'd come to at home in California, or on a jet over Zimbabwe, and all of the previous forty-eight hours would be some sort of bad dream. Being shot by Nobel, the toxin, Jack's unholy unorthodox deal to get them out of Afghanistan all having been some weird concoction of his unconscious.

"You don't." Dr. Cunha grabbed a blanket from where it was draped over one of Jerry's chairs. She offered it to Mac. "These days it's hard to know who you can trust."

"I think the smart answer is no one." Mac took the blanket, the doctor's forthrightness, even though it was said in jest, dousing the bit of lightheartedness he'd managed and perhaps prompting that streak of pessimism Bozer mentioned him having. He glanced at Noelani, offering a sort of smile so she'd think he was joking as well. "If nothing else, it's the far safer bet."

RcJ

Jack may have been watching the doorway to Five-O when he should have been concentrating on the full debriefing Hammond was delivering not only to his military constituents this time but to the rest of Steve's team as well. The general, with Jerry's help, had mapped the two possible locations that Nobel might have been staying taking into account the vicinity of the rental shop where Pauley and Deacon had first picked up his trail when he'd arrived at Oahu earlier that morning and the time frame they were looking at. The plan was to split up. Chin, Deacon and Pauley would take one rental property. Steve, Jack and Danny the other.

Jack had the gist of the operation. Hammond, after a heated discussion with Steve, was willing to give them a chance to apprehend Nobel, foregoing the fake prisoner exchange. Jack had agreed, as long as they could procure the antidote. There were a hundred things that could go wrong with the extraction but at the moment Jack was more concerned with the fact Bozer had escorted Dr. Cunha down to check on Mac and had yet to return.

He'd just decided he had heard enough of Hammond's over-detailed plan and would check on the status of the things in the basement himself when Bozer appeared beyond the glass, looking every bit the man on a mission. Jack stepped away from the computer table with every intention of getting news about Mac. Hammond continued his talking but Jack caught the curious glance the general sent his way before he rushed off to meet Bozer as the younger man entered the offices.

"How is he?" Jack asked as he intercepted Bozer.

"How do you think he is, Jack?" Bozer snapped uncharacteristically, crossing his arms over his chest, a defiant look on his face. Jack doubted the younger man would have even stopped if he hadn't firmly placed himself in Bozer's path. "He's been poisoned by your friend's toxic bullet."

"Nobel isn't my friend." Jack took a deep breath, trying to reign in his temper when Bozer attempted to side-step around him. He blocked Bozer's way once more, holding out a hand to keep their lab tech in place this time. "Did the doctor say anything?"

"Are you referring to the medical examiner your buddy brought in?" Bozer frowned, tossing the question out like a gauntlet.

Jack shook his head, working very hard to keep his patience which wasn't so easy considering everything that had happened in the last 48 hours. "She went to medical school, Bozer."

"She spends the majority of her time working with dead people, Jack. She reminds me of the lady from Bones, or even worse, one of her revolving door interns with the weird quirks." Bozer gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke, a sure sign he was as wired and stressed as Jack. " Do you really think she's the right person to help Mac?"

"Mac is the one who said no doctors, Dude. He refused to go back to Phoenix and our physicians there." Jack tried to visualize something peaceful and calming like a Texas sunset or the final scenes of Armageddon.

"Because he thinks he has to watch your back." Bozer pointed out and the finger he jabbed in Jack's direction was enough to have Jack's adrenaline kicking in. Jack knew he deserved it but he was sick and tired of being on the receiving end of things, especially when Bozer really didn't have a dog in this particular race.

He couldn't exactly argue that line of thinking so he returned to his original question, proposing it in a more menacing tone this time that he hoped Bozer recognized as the one Jack used on missions when the people under him had better damn well follow directives and give the sit rep he was asking for. "What. Did. She. Say?"

Bozer rolled his eyes, proving he had no real experience in the field, and didn't know Jack as well as he thought he did. "The 'coroner' mentioned something about organs shutting down, depleted oxygen and oh yeah there was the thing about Mac succumbing to internal asphyxiation, but probably not within the next twenty-four hours so we've all got time to enjoy some Spam burgers."

Jack didn't even bother with a reply, the words internal asphyxiation enough to prompt him to talk to the doctor himself. Mac could throw a temper tantrum later when he wasn't dying. He made a move for the door when Bozer grabbed his arm. Pain shot up Jack's side as he was caught off guard and brought to an abrupt halt. Bozer was damn lucky Jack had enough restraint not to automatically revert to the path of wrath he'd criticized earlier.

"That's not the smartest move you've made, Boze." Jack pressed out between gritted teeth. He glanced down at the hand still on his arm and then let his gaze lock with the other man's. "I'd advise you rethink it. Quickly. Let me go."

"Maybe you should reconsider what you're about to do as well." Bozer did as he said, but in Jack's opinion, he didn't look half as afraid and nowhere near as sorry as he should have considering the ass whooping he was so obliviously courting.

"Are you talking about the part where I tear your arm from its socket and beat you with it, or where I just drop you with a punch that will make Mac's earlier one look like something my sister would have thrown when she was ten?" Jack clenched his fists at his side, not really intending to follow through on either threat. Still, he took a step back just in case his common sense and genuine affection for Bozer was momentarily overwhelmed by his less than stellar state of mind.

"I'm talking about being a pigheaded jerk and upsetting Mac." Bozer actually moved closer to Jack, more evidence he really needed more training. Jack suddenly felt amiss as the team's tactical leader. If it had been any other circumstance Jack might have found the ballsy, albeit stupid, move amusing, hell, maybe even a little impressive. As it was, Bozer's recklessness and obvious lack of self- preservation had him seeing red, every instinct insisting demanding he reach out and teach his good friend a lesson on why one should never poke the proverbial tiger, especially when said tiger was hurt and feeling a bit caged in, and more than a little protective of his cub. "You need to back off and give him some space," Bozer continued.

"Are you telling me what to do?" Jack snatched Bozer by the shirt, slamming him against the wall. He leaned in close enough to see surprise and fear flash through the younger man's dark eyes. Maybe the unmistakable realization on Bozer's part that he'd crossed some very important line should have had Jack backing down, easing up, but it provoked the opposite reaction. The open sign of weakness further provoking Jack's Alpha side. "Do you think _you_ can keep me from seeing Mac?"

"I would think I wouldn't have to, man." Bozer squirmed, trying to free himself from Jack's vice-like grip. He had his hands wrapped around Jack's wrist and Jack had the ridiculous thought that he was going to have to give the guy some lessons on breaking simple holds when they headed back to Phoenix. "That maybe you'd do what was best for him for once and not think so much about what you want."

"What did you say?" Jack could practically feel the heat race up his neck. The words coming out of Bozer's mouth, the insinuation that Jack was acting selfishly instead of in Mac's best interest, was paramount to carelessly throwing gasoline on the waning embers of a campfire. Worse, the accusation struck like a well-aimed arrow, the possible truth of Bozer's words battering every insecure chink in Jack's armor. He had his fist drawn back before he realized what was happening.

"Dalton!" Steve's voice was a bucket of cold water. "Let him go. Now!"

The commanding voice broke through the haze of fury. Jack lowered his hand.

"Stand down!"

Years of ingrained conditioning to follow orders, to listen for the 'shepherd's voice' overshadowed Jack's desire to pummel Bozer. Maybe it was the thought of his sheep-like mentality and the direct link to Mac that particular line of thinking provided more than his instinct to do as Steve said, but Jack immediately released Bozer, moving out of his personal space. Mac might never forgive him if he actually hit Bozer.

"What the hell, Jack?" Bozer demanded indignantly, running a hand over the front of his shirt. "Have you lost your mind?"

"You!" Steve gestured to Bozer, his eyes hard. "Walk away."

The unspoken 'while you still can' was not lost on Jack. Bozer must have understood as well because he quickly joined the others who, with a quick glance, Jack could see had stopped their discussion of the raid on Nobel's base camp to watch yet another of Jack's monumental screw ups. Suddenly he felt monumentally tired, and every bit his age.

"Tombstone." Steve's tone was softer now, meant for only Jack to hear. "We're about to head out and you need to clean up before we do. Chin probably has some clean shirts in his office."

Jack realized his former teammate was offering him a graceful exit, an opportunity to salvage what was left of his pride. Chin's office was the closest, sparing Jack from having to cross the room to Steve's and face the others and a potential dressing down from his commanding officer as well as the assuredly disappointed puppy dog eyes Jerry would give him. Jack was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He gave a brief nod and took a step in the direction Steve was pointing, unconsciously pressing a hand to his still aching side.

"What the hell, man?" Steve demanded as soon as he closed the door behind them. His careful tone giving way to a more familiar bark. He went to close the blinds, to give them some privacy, but not before Jack caught a look of Bozer talking to Hammond. "Are you trying to alienate everyone you care about today?"

Jack slid a hand down his face, dropping into the closest chair. "I could give a shit if Bozer is pissed at me."

"Really?" Steve pulled another chair over so that it was directly in front of Jack. "Because I remember you saying you were attached to Bozer. I'm guessing with that name, there's not another one running around somewhere that you _didn't_ just assault."

"Yeah, well, I was attached to my hair, too." Jack gestured to his head. "That sure as hell didn't stop the inevitable fall out."

"You have control over your temper, brother." Steve reminded. "You're not exactly some hot-headed kid anymore."

"Yeah and it's good for Bozer that I'm not, or he'd be picking his teeth up off the damn floor." Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, resting his head in his hands. The position pulled at the remaining butterfly bandages, but Jack figured he deserved the extra pain.

Steve snorted. "And you'd feel even more the bastard than you do now."

"Well, that goes without saying." Jack sat up, scrubbing a hand through his traitorous hair. "Maybe the kid is right and I'm just a selfish, self-serving, sonofabitch."

"You're a lot of things, Jack, but I have never known you to be selfish or self-serving." Steve leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "Not to give you the big head or anything but I've only seen the opposite where you're concerned."

"Maybe you, instead of Hammond, should be explaining my actions to Bozer." Jack rubbed a hand over his forehead, his voice bitter.

"Ham knows who you are, Jack. I'm guessing he's giving Bozer his famous 'don't mess with dragons when you're crunchy and taste good with ketchup' speech. The general's just pissed about Nobel."

"Aren't we all?" Jack snorted. "Mac probably most of all considering the whole being poisoned and dying thing."

"I don't get the feeling your partner is exactly the hold a grudge type."

"He's not, but the kid isn't exactly the trusting sort either, and not without good reason." Jack studied the spotless floor, thinking about the promises he'd made Mac over the years, one of the most important that he wouldn't lie to him. Honesty was a novelty in their line of work, the distinction between who was in your closest circle, and who was held at a safe distance. There had never been secrets between the two of them, sans the huge one Jack had brought back from the desert. "It took me a long time to convince him I wasn't just another person who'd end up screwing him over, and trust me when I say Mac has had more than his fair share of those."

"I'm not sure I'd call getting him the hell out of Afghanistan as screwing him over." Steve kicked Jack's boot, prompting him to look up. "I'm also guessing those missions you agreed to weren't some kind of cake walk. In fact, Hammond told me you almost died on the first one, that you were tortured in some hell hole in Iraq, and that the rest haven't been a stroll in the park."

"With the exception of a few SNAFU's, they've mostly been black bag, hot extractions, some highly unethical Intel gathering." Jack ran a hand down his mouth, not willing to let Steve paint the picture in a way that cast Jack as anything but the lying bastard he was. "A couple of terminations."

"That doesn't sound like a small price to pay." Steve's knowing gaze bored into Jack's.

"Considering the alternative, it was." Jack shook his head. "If you'd been with us that last mission in Helmand you'd understand a little better."

"The thing is, buddy, I do understand. All too well." Steve pointed towards the window, gesturing to the people who lay just beyond. "The problem being some of them, your friend Bozer included, haven't had their eyes opened in the same way. They have no idea what it's like to be a soldier in those places."

"Thank God." Jack sighed. The last thing he would want is more men, people he cared about, to experience the atrocities of war.

"Mac does understand. He's seen what we've seen, and done what we've had to do." Steve held Jack's gaze. "It may take him a while, but he'll understand that what you did had nothing to do with betrayal and everything to do with survival."

"Like I told Hammond, time isn't exactly on our side."

"Which is why if you're done with all the high school drama, we need to get geared up and see if we can track Jonas down."

"Bozer started it," Jack said, knowing he'd proved Steve's point when the SEAL rolled his eyes and stood with a shake of his head.

"Just apologize or steer clear of him until you've gotten some sleep and aren't hurting as much." Steve pointed at Jack's side, his shirt stained with old and fresh blood. "You really need to take care of that."

As if on cue there was a slight knock on the door and Dr. Cunha stuck her head in. "May I come in?"

"Please." Steve waved her in as Jack stood and came alongside him. "Another voice of reason is always appreciated."

"Didn't you say Chin would have a clean shirt?" Jack was glad to see the doctor, but the only conversation he wanted to engage with her was one about Mac.

"If any of us do, it would be him." Steve started towards a file cabinet in the corner. "I'll take a look."

"Just make sure it doesn't have any freaking Hawaiian flowers on it." Jack liked the laid back feel of the islands but he was not about to sport some Magnum P.I. fashion trend. The only Tom Selleck characters he'd come close to emulating would be one of his Western roles and maybe the hard-nosed detective, Jesse Stone. He turned to the ME. "How's the patient, Doc?"

"Fever. Dehydrated. But considering, I'd saying he's holding up well." Dr. Cunha gave Jack's bloodied shirt a pointed look. "In fact, he may be better off than you at the moment."

"This?" Jack waved a hand, dismissing the doctor's concern. "This is nothing. Steve's about to remedy the worst of it by providing me a nice clean, non-flowered, shirt."

"Which will be quickly ruined if you don't let me do something about the knife wound on your side." She raised an eyebrow.

"How did you know I had a knife wound?" Jack covered the stained side of his shirt, as if he could hide the evidence now, surprise coloring his face. "Don't tell me besides being a forensic anthropologist you are also a medium?"

"I have a deal with your partner." Dr. Cunha didn't wait for Jack's permission before she set her bag on Chin's desk and started to remove supplies as if she were familiar with this routine. "He agreed to stay in one spot and rest until I got back if I agreed to patch you up before I went."

"Where are you going?" Jack asked the most relevant question. Although encouraged by the fact that at least Mac didn't want him bleeding to death anytime soon, he was more concerned with Dr. Cunha not staying close. "What if he needs medical attention?"

"He is already in need of medical attention, Agent Dalton." The doctor gestured for Jack to sit once more. "If I'm going to provide that, in a very limited capacity, I need the supplies to start an IV, an oxygen tank, and cold packs which will hopefully help us keep Agent MacGyver's fever under control without adding more drugs to his compromised system. Detective Williams has also offered to procure us some oils that might naturally aid in the process."

"The sooner you do as she says, Tombstone, the sooner she can back here to help Mac." Steve who'd been rummaging through his teammate's work space, returned and offered Jack two shirts. "It will give us time to get the gear we'll need and alert HPD in case we need back-up."

"Are you kidding me?" Jack took the shirts his friend offered him with a frown, holding up the black one. He'd preferred a damn coconut bra. "Is that Kamekona's face, with a shrimp body? I've never seen something destroy my favorite color so completely."

"I once had to wear one of these beauties and stand outside his shaved ice stand like some human billboard." Steve pointed a finger at Jack as he moved towards the door. "If you're too good to advertise for the local businesses on Oahu, you can always choose the second option." He grinned. "I just ask that you wear it with pride, brother."

"Bastard." Jack called as he got a look at the other shirt. NAVY was emblazoned across the iconic navy blue in large gold letters.

"He gave us all one for Christmas." Dr. Cunha didn't look empathetic to Jack's plight. She shrugged her shoulder. "I've only been here for one party, but I inherited a set of Navy coffee mugs, a Navy baseball cap, and one cute stuffed seal wearing a sailor's hat from my predecessor, Max, that I'm pretty sure all came from McGarret's Christmas trove of treasure."

"He's always been a tightwad," Jack sighed. Resigned he carefully removed his soiled shirt and let Dr. Cunha do her worst. He trusted an ME a whole hell of lot more than a shrimp peddler that used his unique likeness as a marketing tool. "I'd as soon wear a shirt with Kamekona's butt before I went out in McGarrett's water baby memorabilia."

"I thought you were a Navy SEAL?" Jack held in the hiss he wanted to let out when the woman slid an alcohol pad over the deepest cut and along the vertical slice. He felt sweat pop out on his forehead as she none-too-gently removed what was left of the old butterfly bandages. Jack considered it a small penance for going off on Bozer, an act that Mac would not have approved of in the least. In fact, he would be downright disappointed and Jack sure as hell had done enough of that for one day.

"Hell no." He shook his head, trying to breathe through his nose so he didn't flinch when the woman actually pinched the area of the cut together as if she were working on one of her freaking corpses instead of living, breathing person. Jack hoped to hell she'd been easier on Mac. "I was in Delta."

"So I guess I don't need to give you anything to numb this before I start stitching?" Dr. Cunha didn't even look up from her inspection of his side. "I hear you Deltas are pretty tough."

"Did Mac tell you that?"

"He might have mentioned your high tolerance for pain." Dr. Cunha met his gaze. "I was joking about the stitches. At this point, I'm just going to reapply some butterfly bandages."

"Speaking of pain…" Jack hesitated, holding his breath as the doctor applied a generous amount of antibiotic cream to the gouge. He waited for her to look up at him again, but tried to maintain a nonchalant front when her dark eyes found his. "How bad is this going to get for my partner?"

"If you don't get the antidote soon?" Dr. Cunha clarified and Jack suspected she didn't want to lay it all out in ugly Technicolor if she had an alternative.

"Let's go with worst case scenario just in case." Jack hoped they would have the cure for his best friend in a few hours but if things did go south, he wanted to know just how _bad_ was bad.

"My educated guess after looking at Phoenix's lab work up is that the headache and muscle pain will become unmanageable. The fever will have to be controlled or he'll seize. Convulsions are a possibility. Breathing will be compromised and he'll have to eventually be intubated or he'll succumb to Carbon Monoxide poisoning. His kidneys will eventually shut down, leading to multi-organ failure. It will be, to say the least, as horrible as the designer intended it to be."

After adding a very quiet 'I'm sorry', Dr. Cunha went back to work on Jack. He was pretty sure she was aware her very descriptive answer had caused quantifiably more amount of agony than anything she could have put Jack through physically. Delta operator be damned. Jack was pretty sure no enemy could think up a more effective form of torture than Jack's own imagination and the very vivid images it conjured of his partner as Dr. Cunha listed the maladies that would inevitably befall Mac.

"But if you find the antidote within the next twenty-four hours, then I believe most of those symptoms can be completely avoided." Dr. Cunha even gave Jack a small smile as she finished with the last bandage, as if he were a child and she'd just kissed his booboo instead of the emotional flaying she'd handed out.

"Nothing like a little motivation to get a guy focused." Jack gritted his teeth against the new pain and stood. He pulled on the least offending shirt, stuffing the other in his back pocket for a back-up he hoped he wouldn't need. "I think I'll check in on Mac before I go."

Jack noticed Bozer and Jerry were missing when he made his way out of Chin's office. Hammond, Pauley and Deacon were still leaned over the computer table, but they didn't even look up. He could see Danny was on the phone in his office while Steve and Chin were nowhere to be found. It was a relief when Jack didn't find Bozer camped out in front of the basement door. He'd half expected to find him or possibly his new good buddy Jerry posted sentry at the entrance to the computer tech's office, but neither would have stopped him from at least telling Mac goodbye this time.

Unfortunately, it was like déjà vu from the night Jack had left LA. Mac was curled on the couch, looking as he always did when he was asleep, much younger than his actually twenty-five years. There was something about the vulnerability that had time falling away, causing Jack's partner to miraculously transform into that nineteen year old kid Jack had first met in the desert. Anytime Mac was injured or sick it added a whole new dimension to the time shift. Though even in sleep a pained frown was evident on the younger man's face. Jack wasn't sure if he should be relieved he didn't have to have a face to face farewell with Mac, who would have probably argued to come along on the raid, or worried that his mule-headed partner had actually followed doctor's orders. It was the ladder that drove Jack to rush across the room, only letting out the breath he was holding when he saw Mac's chest rise and fall.

"Way to add a little extra gray to the hair I have left, bud." Jack kept his voice to a whisper as he took the chair that was already near the couch. He reached out and touched the back of his hand to Mac's forehead, brushing away an errant strand of blond hair when the kid didn't even so much as move with the touch. Jack could feel the heat even before his hand was pressed against his partner's skin and he searched the room until his eyes landed on what he was looking for.

Jack moved to the mini-fridge, finding the water bottle he'd hoped would be there and an empty bowl on top of the microwave. He looked for some kind of cloth but found nothing that might work as a compress. Remembering the extra shirt he'd stuffed half way in his back pocket in case he reopened the wound on his side again and was forced to don the monstrosity brought a quick smile to his face.

He moved back to his partner's side after tearing the Navy tee from top to bottom and ripping a good sized strip from around the bottom.

"Now this is about the only thing this shirt is good for. Well, this and possibly as an alternative to a handful of leaves if a guy was to find himself out in the woods and in need." Jack reclaimed the chair, uncapping the water bottle. He balanced the bowl on his lap, pouring the water in before wetting the folded material. He rung the make-shift compress out before sitting the bowl on the ground. Jack placed the cloth on Mac's forehead, frowning when the younger man merely mumbled something that Jack couldn't make out. "What do you say when all this is over and we're back in LA we send McGarrett and his team some Go Army gear?"

Mac didn't say anything of course but he did shift slightly, turning towards Jack as if he unconsciously recognized the older man was there. Jack hoped that was the case.

"It seems like us having these heart to hearts when the other one is out is becoming a habit so I'll keep this short." Jack leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together, eyes moving over Mac's pale face. "I can't apologize for that deal I made back in Afghanistan, Kiddo. In fact, I won't. It was one of the few decent things I've done in my life. I can't claim it was exactly selfless, because of what I gained from it. Those promised ten missions were nothing compared to what I got on my end." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not saying Phoenix is always the safest place and that the life of a spy doesn't have a whole set of problems all its own, but it is a far cry from the hell we were in."

Jack was silent for a moment, the only sound in the room coming from Mac's slightly ragged breathing. "I just couldn't stand by and watch how that place was changing you, bud. Or worse – wait until it made you another statistic, just another boy who'd made the ultimate sacrifice for his country only to be sent home in a flag-draped pine box." Jack blew out a long breath, even speaking the words bringing a hollow ache to his chest. He understood loss all too well. Still grieved over his father, years after the man's death. Jack knew he wouldn't be able to stand losing someone else he loved as deeply. It would kill him. In a way, Jack had truly been trying to save both their lives.

"I just couldn't leave you there. And this way I've had a ring-side seat to watch you become the man I knew you'd be if you only survived long enough to actually grow up." Jack narrowed his gaze at Mac as if his partner had given a familiar roll of his eyes, and an exasperated shake of his head, instead of remaining far too still. "Don't even tell me that twenty was way past being an adult because it is not and if you don't realize that by now at the ripe old age of twenty-five, you sure as hell will when you reach forty."

He was unable to resist the urge to reach out and squeeze Mac's wrist, running the risk of waking him. "But I am sorry that I lied to you about the details, and the missions that took place when you were none the wiser as to where I was and what I was doing."

Jack knew that the recent deceptions, the operations he'd done while at Phoenix, more than anything, was likely what hurt Mac the most, what caused that flicker of doubt Jack had seen in his gaze when the younger man's quick mind had put all the facts together and realized the grand scale of it all. Over the years Jack had justified the white lies and even the complete whoppers as ways to protect classified work he'd sworn not to divulge to anyone, including his best friend, but he could admit now, maybe because Mac wasn't staring all big-eyed at him, that it was just as much to cover his ass as to keep government Intel safe.

"I swear I'll make it up to you, brother. You just have to hold on and get through this so you can give me a chance to put it right between us."Jack glanced at his watch, regretfully understanding his time was up. Steve would be looking for him. He gave Mac's wrist another squeeze, leaning in just a bit closer. "By the way, if Bozer tries to tell you I lost my shit and went all Rambo on him, just know that he totally started it."

To be continued…


	10. Chapter 10

Guard Your Heart

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Finally, the next chapter is here. I'm so sorry that I took time to let the muse roam, but hope you enjoy this long update. Thank you to all those who reviewed! Forgive me for not getting back to everyone individually. I will try my best to finish this off in the next couple of weeks. Fingers crossed! My ever vigilant beta, Mary, gave this a quick go-over from her vacation paradise in Iceland, improving my ramblings greatly with her talented touch, but all mistakes are mine. A shout out to the awesome Gib who provided me intricate knowledge of satellite coverage, as always so willing to share and help out seeing as how I am quite clueless about all things technical.

RcJ

"Tell me again how Nobel arrived this morning, presumably _after_ me, and he already has established possibly two houses on the island?" Jack had slid his night vision goggles to the top of his head, glancing to Steve who was lying beside him on the forest floor still looking through his rifle scope at the house they were scouting. It was enough to bring a rush of déjà vu, ironically from their original recovery of Jonas, Operation MOD. "If Jerrys Intel is right both these places were rented weeks ago by different people, neither of whom have records or any outward ties to Nobel."

"You heard Hammond, he lost track of Jonas after the overthrow of that village." Steve turned to look at Jack. "We don't know he didn't set his whole plan in motion during that time. If he has the resources we think he does, he could have easily pulled this off. These two rentals fit the grid that Hammond's team mapped, and they both were acquired through enough backdoor channels to send up flags in the database."

"Subversive renting or not, Jerry hasn't been able to find any other trace of the Stoddard alias coming onto the island before this morning." Danny pointed out, from his position on the other side of Steve. Jack was beginning to appreciate the man's ability to play devil's advocate on most any subject. "Of course if Nobel wanted you all to know he was here this latest visit then he might have used such an obvious alias on purpose. He could have been more covert the first time around."

"I'm guessing after he shot Mac he didn't care if we knew where he was headed since he'd already told me as much in that little clue he left." Jack looked again through his own scope. The house was dark except for the lone porch light, there were no vehicles in the drive, nor was there any signs of a motorcycle. Thoughts of his sick partner, the way he'd left Mac, had him itching to get inside. "Is the other team ready to move?"

"Any word on Chin's position, Jerry?" Steve asked his computer tech and they all heard Jerry's reply through their coms that Chin's team was in place and ready to make their own sweep on the other suspicious property.

"Tell them it's a go, and we're heading in." Steve stood, gesturing for Jack to take point. He'd bring up the rear.

They spread out as soon as they made it to the house, Jack circling his way around as Steve and Danny stayed in the front. Once at the back door, Jack skimmed the frame for any signs of wires. It would be just like Nobel to plan a little surprise. He slid his rifle around to his back, pulling the Glock from his thigh holster as he tried the handle on the off chance it was unlocked. Luck would have it that it was. Of course, luck may have had nothing to do with it.

"My door's unlocked. You boys good or is there a B&E in your future?" Jack spoke softly, waiting for Steve's reply before entering.

"The front's open, too," Steve's voice came clearly. "Almost like someone was expecting us."

"Come right in said the spider to the fly," Jack muttered, knowing this could all be one huge set up. Any chance of finding Nobel or the cure for Mac was worth the risk. "I'm Oscar Mike. See you boys inside."

"Did you not get my memo, Dalton?" Danny's irritated hiss brought a smile to Jack's face as he carefully opened the door, using the flashlight attached to his gun to shine on the floor before he took a step over the threshold. He wouldn't deny he'd purposefully used the military slang to annoy Steve's civilian partner. A guy had to keep somewhat of a sense of humor about these things, especially when the stakes were this high. "I specifically said no pretending we were on some kind of Delta meets SEAL Team Six reunion mission. That will only invite trouble."

"Is he always this chatty on Ops?" Jack asked, nodding to Steve who'd just entered the front of the house and who he could now see across the room. "Hammond's face is probably three shades of crimson right about now with all the senseless squawking."

"I've got muddy boot prints," Steve said instead of answering Jack's question. He knelt down to get a better look. "It doesn't look fresh."

"This is not, I repeat _not_ an operation," Danny continued, clear annoyance easy to pick up in his tone. Jack shook his head, remembering the detective's vehement reaction when Jack had suggested they call this current outing Operation Re-MOD-el. He'd found it clever. Danny obviously not so much. The man was as much a joker as Director Thornton. "Even hinting at such is bound to set us up for some kind of disastrous encounter including guns and rogue militia, possibly even grenade launchers."

"I see he's experienced more than one of your campaigns, Smooth Dawg." Jack flashed a grin, having been on the bad end of some of Steve's missions himself.

"How about _you_ cut the chatter, Tombstone," Steve piped up, signaling for Jack to move to the hallway directly in front of them, before he disappeared to the left and Danny moved toward the rooms off to the right. "I'm going to follow the mud trail. You two split up and I don't want to hear from you again unless it's a sit rep."

Jack snorted when Danny muttered under his breath at Steve's pointed use of lingo before starting down the hallway. He found the tight space curious and wondered if narrow halls were an island thing. Jack checked each room, one of which was a bathroom, the other two bedrooms. Both beds were still made, no clothes in either closet he checked. No suitcases or other items stored beneath the beds, and more importantly, no bad guys. The linen closet held only the most rudimentary supplies, no personal items included. Even the toothbrushes were still in plastic wrappers. The place was as tidy and impersonal as a vacant hotel room.

"I'm all clear here," Jack reported to Steve as he worked his way back down the long hallway towards the front of the house.

"Same," Danny responded, his voice getting closer.

"I may have a something." Steve came across tense, raising Jack's hackles.

"What sort of something, Steven?" Danny asked, as he and Jack met up in the middle and the detective motioned for Jack to proceed him into the kitchen where they assumed Steve had made his discovery. "Decomposing body of the person who didn't wipe their feet? Landmine? Don't leave us hanging?"

"A door," Steve responded, vaguely.

Jack was the first to enter the kitchen. He swept his flashlight around the spacious, open area not seeing Steve. He frowned, not liking losing visual. "When you say door did you mean a magic portal to another dimension, brother? Because you're pretty much MIA."

"There." Danny panned his light onto the refrigerator at the other end of the room. It had been slid out from the wall.

"How the hell did you find that?" Jack shook his head as he took a look around the appliance where Steve stood in front of a half-door.

"Footprints stopped." Steve panned the entrance with his flashlight, bending down to get a good look at the latch. "What do you make of this, Tombstone? This whole wall seems to be reinforced concrete?"

"And you're first thought wasn't the guy might have come to the fridge for a beer?" Danny shook his head at his partner, spouting off before Jack could get a good look at the entrance and give his impression. "Of course your warped mind just automatically went to 'there must be a hidden passageway'?"

"The refrigerator is empty, Danno," Steve explained, slightly exasperated. "There were no footprints out of the kitchen and no signs of the boots or the person wearing them. I extrapolated from the evidence."

Jack moved around Danny,crouching beside Steve. "Are you thinking some kind of vault?"

"How Sherlock Holmes of you," Danny continued his rant. "Maybe the guy took the boots off and carried them out with him on his way to get groceries?"

"Maybe a bomb shelter," Steve said, thoughtfully. He ignored his partner, locking gazes with Steve. "This house is from around the 1950's."

"Aren't those typically buried underground?" Jack wrapped his knuckles against the concrete, wincing when Dr. Cunha's fresh butterfly bandages gave a sharp twinge.

"You're forgetting we're basically a volcano, brother. Solid rock, or as the locals call it Blue Rock. It's not made for basements. We're talking major explosives, which means a hefty bankroll just to put a pool in the ground."

"Which is why my partner uses the ocean as his lap pool every day," Danny huffed. "He'd rather face blood thirsty sharks than come off with any cash."

"I guess there's only one way to find out." Jack gestured to the latch on the steel door. "I'm not seeing any wires, I say we open her up."

"By all means, lead the way." Danny snapped at Jack as Steve slid the bolt lock and gave the door a hard push. "You, who seems completely nonplussed by this nefarious turn of events."

"In the desert, it's common for Taliban and Iraqi forces to use secret passages and tunnels." Jack grimaced as his light caught the remnants of a spider's web. He didn't bother to add that in his experience good things never awaited at the other end of said passages and tunnels seeing as how Danny appeared already against the idea. Jack's mind instantly went to Helmand, the tunnel he and Landry had used to get to Mac. He swallowed thickly against the onslaught of unwelcome memories. "On a good note, it typically means there's something worth finding inside."

"As I have reminded you and the Super SEAL many times before, this is _not_ the desert!" Danny growled. "Jerry, if you're reading this, please note that I am going on record as saying the discovery of a secret room is never a good turn of events and it is against my better judgment that we are entering the temple of doom."

Jack rolled his eyes when the computer guru responded with a 'duly noted'. It really was a miracle Hammond hadn't taken over Jerry's job, the only explanation was that the general was more than likely running communications with the other team.

"He's claustrophobic." Steve said as if that explained his tightly wound partner's obvious dislike of what Jack would consider a lucky break on their part.

"I doubt if there are any clowns hanging out in there, Dude." Jack shot the detective a sympathetic grin. "We're more likely to encounter rats. Which I hate, right along with mice, raccoons, possums." He shuddered. "In fact, I'm not big on anything that squeaks and has a tail longer than its body."

"The fear of clowns is Coulrophobia, you idiot." Danny glared at Jack. "Claustrophobia is an intense dislike of tight, enclosed spaces."

"And by dislike he means a crippling terror." Steve arched a brow at his partner, gave a crooked grin. "You're welcome to stand watch out here, D."

"And leave you two on your own?" Danny shook his head. "Just the merest imaginings that thought conjures is more horrifying than belly crawling through some snake hole."

Steve shook his head in exasperation, but went first followed by Danny who Jack noted took a deep breath and looked a little pale as he knelt to follow after McGarrett.

Jack supposed Danny was grateful that although the entrance was indeed narrow, the room within was not. It opened up to generous space, at least for a hidden room, which explained the need for the very narrow hallway Jack had experienced on the other side of the house.

When Steve flipped the light switch the room was bathed in an eerie fluorescent glow, a row of long metal lights making it look every bit like every bit the bunker Jack recalled having seen in history books. The walls were lined with shelves, holding cans of various sizes. There was a metal bookshelf built into the wall, a desk and a long folding table shoved against the far end, along with two bunk beds.

"So I'm guessing your theory about this place belonging to one of the paranoid residents from the Kennedy error was right on the money," Jack said, Spidey senses on full alert. Despite pulling the door closed, and knowing there wasn't a place someone could hide, he had an eerie feeling they were being watched, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He swept his gaze around the room, keeping his gun at the ready just in case.

"Or maybe just a desperate mom who needed some time away," Danny added, stopping by the bunk beds. "That is if she had a strange fashion sense when it came to footwear. I found your missing shoes, Holmes."

Jack looked to where Danny nudged a pair of muddied biker boots. He could also see a shirt and pair of jeans tossed on the bed. Steve, who had made his way to the desk didn't bother to turn around. Instead he was studying the wall over the desk.

"What have you got?" Danny crossed the room along with Jack, who backed his way there as he continued to cover the entrance.

"Looks like our theory about Nobel being here pans out." Steve pointed to a collage of photographs taped to the wall. "He's been watching us for weeks."

Jack glanced over his shoulder, catching a few shots of Danny and a young girl, which Jack assumed was Danny's daughter. It looked as if they were at a school. There was several of a little blond boy and Steve at the beach, another of all four of them along with Chin and Jerry at Kamekona's food truck, but the pictures that claimed Jack's attention completely were the ones of Mac. They were from LA. Some were taken when his partner was out for a run, a few others in front of Mac's house, and ones of Mac and Jack outside Jack's home, one of them and Bozer leaving their favorite pizza dive. It was hard to miss the red bullseye slashed over Mac's face in each and every one.

"Sonofabitch!" Jack's temper sparked, the fact he'd been oblivious to such an imminent threat hard to accept even when confronted with undeniable evidence of his failure.

"Why leave the pictures?" Steve asked suddenly, looking around the room again as if they'd missed something blatantly obvious, after studying the perimeter he looked from Jack to his partner. "The set of clothes, but nothing else that suggests this is his home base. No work station, nothing he'd need to make the chemical he used on Mac. We've seen Jonas set up a lab, he's detailed and methodic."

"One thing's for sure, I doubt we'll find any antidote here." Danny spoke what Jack didn't want to even think about. He reached up and pulled one of the pictures of him and his daughter down from the wall, his face as grim and determined as Jack had seen it. "Maybe he used the other location, too? Chin and the Delta duo may have had better luck."

"Or maybe he's just messing with us." Jack knew it didn't make sense that Jonas would have rented two places, and highly doubted he'd ever used this one for anything more than a decoy. He nodded to where Danny had taken the picture down. The empty space revealed what could very well have been a bottom loop of what looked like a letter, and off to the right there was a small drilled hole-just the right size for a camera. Nobel was watching them. "Take them all down," Jack growled.

Steve holstered his gun and began to help his partner pull the pictures from the wall. The message beneath was scrawled in bright red like the bullseye drawn over Mac's face. _BOOM._ Jack's heart was thundering as he read the script, adrenaline pulsing, priming his body even before Steve had finished revealing the complete word. He could picture the wicked grin on Nobel's face, almost hear his laughter.

"Damn it." Jack swore, already turning to start for the entrance. "We need to…"

He didn't even get the warning out of his mouth before his memories of Helmand were suddenly and vividly brought back to life. The massive blast, although muffled by the thick concrete walls echoed around them with all the ferocity of a direct strike. It sounded as if a speeding train had just struck the shelter. Jack felt the room shift beneath his feet, lurching so that he nearly stumbled. The floor swayed, the house groaning and shrieking as if were a living thing and being torn asunder from its foundation, or possibly, and more than likely, completely obliterated around them. Instinctively Jack dropped to a crouch covering his head the best he could just as the row of lights bolted directly above him shook free from their mooring. The old bunker was instantly showered in an array of bright sparks then swallowed up by darkness. There was an instant of blinding pain and Jack found himself for the second time that day seeing a vivid myriad of stars that had nothing to do with the destroyed lights. Then his world, like the room, went completely dark.

RcJ

"Jack!" Mac bolted from sleep into a sitting position without any conscious effort. The move brought a sharp assault of pain, making an unpleasant awakening even worse. He gasped for breath, finding the action more struggle than it should have been.

"Easy, Mac." Bozer's voice had Mac blinking hard to orient himself, focusing on slowing his racing heart so he could actually take in some air without hyperventilating.

"Bozer?" The room was fairly dark, the warm light from a lamp across from them providing limited sight, but Mac could make out the shape of his friend hovering close by, just out of striking distance. It was a sad fact that his roommate had learned the hard way not to physically wake Mac from a nightmare, at least not without a good fighting stance. Mac raked a shaking hand over his face, hoping to erase the last traces of the dream he'd been having. "Where's Jack?"

"How about we talk about you for a minute?" Bozer moved closer, taking the chair that was pulled next to the couch Mac was lying on.

"What…" Mac took another breath, the dull ache in his shoulder and overall fuzzy feeling in his head answering the question he was about to ask Bozer. The events of the last twenty four hours came rushing back, including the meeting he'd had wit Hammond and the others, as he looked around the basement office. For a moment he'd let himself believe all of it had been a nightmare and he was at home in LA. Mac cleared his throat, once more grounded in reality. "We're in Hawaii."

"I wish I could tell you we were here for a much needed vacation, but …." Bozer inched closer. "How are you feeling?"

Mac opened his mouth to reflexively give his pat answer of 'I'm fine', but realized the ridiculousness of such a statement as a groan escaped him when he tried to move his legs to the side of the couch. "I'm hanging in there. Where's Jack?"

"Your fever's up again." Bozer once more dodged Mac's question, pointing out a blue compress that was lying in Mac's lap. Mac picked up the damp cloth, figuring he must have dislodged it when he'd broken free from the nightmare he'd been having. "Dr. Cunha said you should drink some of the lemon grass oil concoction Melissa sent as soon as you were awake."

Mac continued to stare at the compress, the gold NAVY lettering prompting him to meet Bozer's gaze. "After I see Jack."

"Jack's fine." Bozer took the cloth from Mac and returned it to a bowl of water that was sitting on the floor. "You, on the other hand, not so much."

Mac wasn't in the mood for redirection or mother-henning, no matter how well-intentioned. He gave maneuvering his legs over the side of the couch another try, intent on finding his partner himself if Bozer insisted on being vague.

"What are you doing?" Bozer asked incredulously as Mac succeeded in making it to his feet, albeit with a bit of breathless cursing and nauseating swaying.

"I'm going to find Jack." Mac couldn't explain why he desperately needed to see his partner, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with the dream he'd just had. The one he'd had many times before in the past six months, often after a close call on a mission, or when his defenses were worn down. It was the nightmare where he didn't diffuse the bomb set by The Ghost when Jack had triggered the pressure plate, the one where Mac's brilliant plan to remove the bolt that would disarm the explosives went terribly wrong and he was forced to watch Jack be consumed in a firestorm, Mac as helpless as he'd been when Pena died.

Sometimes Jack was close by when Mac awoke from that dreaded alternate reality. Times when Mac had been hurt, or when they'd been returning from a mission. If he wasn't, Mac had shamefully reached out to him, no matter the hour of the night. Jack always picked up, never once giving Mac grief for the lame excuses he pulled from thin air for calling.

"Jack's gone."

The words stopped Mac cold, effectively accomplishing what the weakened state of his body had not. He sat back down on the couch, his gaze locking with Bozer's. "What do you mean he's gone?"

"Shit, Mac. Not _gone,_ gone," Bozer must have sensed the effect his careless response had garnered, possibly reading the fear and trepidation Mac knew was reflected on his face. Bozer put a hand on Mac's shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. "He went with 5-0 and your buddies from Afghanistan to find Nobel."

"When?" Mac once more made it to standing. Bozer holding out a hand like a parent might for their toddler's first teetering steps. "Why didn't he wake me up? I could have gone… "

"Because I told him to leave you alone." Bozer gripped Mac's arm as he swayed. "And there was no way Jack would have agreed to you going. What part of very sick do you not get, Mac?"

"Why would you do that?" Mac pulled away from his roommate, almost falling over. He was glad for the filing cabinet which spared him having to get up out of the floor. Bozer was possibly right about Jack not being up for Mac joining in on the mission, but he would have liked to have had the chance to argue his point. It would have at least given him a chance to clear the air, to maybe at least say he was sorry, for what he wasn't sure, but the all too familiar nightmare had left him with a desperate need to make a mends with his partner.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because I thought that's what you wanted. I don't know what Jack did, but you were pretty clear on the whole 'I need some space' message," Bozer replied, his fingers making quotes in the air. "We both know Jack's not the most perceptive guy when it comes to subtle subtext. He doesn't even get anvil dropped on his head kind of hints now that I think about it."

"I was mad…" Mac raked a hand through his hair, realizing that although he was still angry at the lies, it was more important that he clear the air. He frowned at Bozer. "Wait. Jack listened to you?"

"I wouldn't' go that far. In fact, he didn't take my suggestion all that well, going all Bruce Banner to Hulk in a flash. I thought he just might toss me through one of the glass walls, might have followed through if his scary SEAL friend hadn't intervened. What is it with these Special Forces guys?" Bozer gave Mac a steady look. "I know you love him and all, but I think he might need some anger management classes, a course in communication wouldn't hurt as well."

"You started it," Mac muttered, rubbing his temples as a vague memory surfaced. Jack had told Mac as much. Or maybe that had been a dream as well.

"Excuse me?" Bozer looked surprised, and a little hurt. "I was trying to have your back."

"I get that." Mac sighed, knowing he wasn't being fair to Bozer. He'd made his beef with Jack more than clear. Bozer hadn't heard Jack's side of the story. "But I don't need your protection, especially from Jack. He would never hurt me." The 'not intentionally' was left unsaid.

"My recent experience is telling me that might not be completely true." Bozer folded his arms over his chest. Mac felt the sudden urge to defend his partner.

"Jack's heart is always in the right place." Mac knew Bozer had not had the easiest time adjusting to all the nuances that his learning the truth had brought about recently. Accepting that Phoenix was not a think-tank but a network of spies was only the surface piece. Delving deeper, Bozer had to learn to accept that the people he thought he knew and understood were very complex individuals, capable of doing things he'd never had to face, or even imagined. All the areas that were once black and white had faded to a murky gray. But one thing was clear. No matter what, they were, and always would be family. "He does what he does out of love."

"Which is why I will eventually forgive him for tossing me around like a rag doll." Bozer favored Mac with an exasperated half grin. "I should have known better anyway, sticking my nose where it didn't belong. The whole Starsky and Hutch, Han Solo and Luke Skywalker dynamic is your and his thing. Besides, it wasn't like the man was going to listen to what I said. He came down here after Jerry and I were gone for dinner." Bozer pointed to the blue cloth floating in the bowl of water. "I figured he was the one who thought of the cold compress."

"Jack just wants to keep me safe." Mac ran a hand through his damp hair, realizing the bits and pieces of one-sided conversation he'd thought he might have imagined having with his partner earlier were probably real. He wasn't sure if he should be angrier that once again Jack had taken off without waking him or grateful for the fact his partner was stalwart in watching over him, even when Mac had made it very clear he didn't want him to.

"Then maybe you should make his job easier for him and sit back down." Bozer glanced at his watch. "Dr. Cunha will be back anytime and besides saying we should get the lemon grass in you as soon you were awake, she said you should rest as much as possible."

"I'll take the lemon grass," Mac was willing to compromise to a point. After all, he recognized that a raging fever was not going to do anything but put him out of commission quicker. Lying back down on the couch was more tempting than he was willing to admit, even to himself, but his desire to be even minimally involved in bringing in Nobel was more demanding. The mission came first. "But I want to go upstairs and see what's going on. Did Jack and Steve get some kind of lead on Nobel?"

"Hammond had some information about two possible rental houses," Bozer replied with a shrug. "They weren't exactly up to including me in the discussion, but it seemed they were splitting into teams to check both places. Jerry and the general are monitoring communications."

"Do they have visuals?" Mac as Jack's partner was charged with watching his back. No argument or misunderstanding altered that priority. If nothing else, the last vestiges of the dreaded dream demanded Mac at least see for himself that Jack was indeed fine.

"Jerry's got satellite views of the houses, but it's dark so I'm not sure how much that's going to help." Bozer grabbed the vial of the lemon grass concoction offering it to Mac. "I know they have coms going because Jack checked in on you when they made it there."

"When was that?" Mac asked, accepting the bottle to squint at the handwritten directions. He used one hand to rub at his eyes hoping the blurred vision was only a result of his having only awoken a few moments before. When the words remained indecipherable, he gave the bottle back to Bozer. "You'll have to tell me how much to take."

"Not more than fifteen minutes ago." Bozer answered Mac's first question, his frown deepening as he glanced from the bottle to Mac. "You can take half the vial in a glass of water, every four hours."

"If you help me make navigate the stairs I will take my medicine without even complaining about the taste." Mac wasn't as steady as he would have liked, and he was pretty certain if his body had rebelled at walking down the small stairway, it was going to be more than painful to climb them. He could already feel the sweat on his brow from staying upright.

Bozer rolled his eyes. "You know being your friend is sometimes like parenting a five-year-old."

"I don't understand why you and Jack share this delusion that you're the grown-ups in this family, when it is obviously me and Riley." Mac bit back on a gasp as Bozer took one of his arms and slipped it over his shoulders.

"Speaking of Riley," Bozer ignored Mac's comment, starting them towards the door of Jerry's office. "She called while I was on my food run with Jerry."

"You didn't…" Mac began, only to have Bozer cut him off.

"I told her Jack surprised us with a trip to Hawaii." Bozer shot him a glance as they made it to the base of the stairway, which suddenly looked as steep as some of the hills Mac ran in the canyon. "It's not exactly a lie, and there's the whole bonus where Riley is pissed at Jack for choosing to spring for a vacation when she's out of town. He's going to owe her big time."

"I'm sorry I had to put you in that position." Mac understood it wasn't in Bozer's make-up to be dishonest, especially to one of their own. "But knowing Riley she'd get Thornton to fly her down here and the last thing we need is to put someone else we care about at risk."

"I'm starting to accept the whole need for shading the truth to keep someone safe."

"Accepting something and liking it are two totally different things." Mac knew if he looked logically at what Jack had kept from him, he'd be forced to realize his partner was doing for him, just what Mac had done for Bozer. Jack had been shielding him. Mac understood. He did. But that didn't make the secrets seem any less of a betrayal, and it didn't change the fact Mac was hurt by the truth that Jack had kept things from him. Just as Bozer had been hurt by Mac's deception.

"What did Jack lie to you about?" Bozer stopped at the top, letting Mac catch his breath.

"He's still in the Army." Mac closed his eyes for a minute, trying to get his breathing under control. When he opened them Bozer looked worried and a bit confused.

"I thought he got out the same time you did?"

"You and me both." Mac nodded to the door they needed to go through to enter the hall outside Five-0's main office. "Long story short, _he_ stayed in longer so he could get _me_ out sooner."

"Damn." Bozer started them forward again, using his free hand to pull the door open. "I was hoping it was something that I could get pissed about, maybe even justify me holding onto my hurt pride a little longer. Now I'm going to have to apologize for calling him a selfish jerk."

"You called Jack a selfish jerk?" Mac hesitated once they were in the hall. His head had resumed the steady pounding, and his legs were once more doing their imitation of Jell-O.

"I know it wasn't the smartest move on my part," Bozer explained, when Mac shot him an incredulous look, which he obviously mistook for concern for his welfare when in actuality Mac couldn't believe his best friend had misjudged Jack so completely. "Don't worry. Hammond's already given me the whole 'you're crunchy and taste good with ketchup, son' speech and Chin Ho tossed in a reminder not to poke a tiger."

"I was thinking more about the whole point of Jack being one of the least selfish people I know." Mac wasn't sure Bozer and Riley truly appreciated Jack's part on the team. Maybe it was because they hadn't been in the field with him, like Mac, who even after all the years his partner had watched his back, sometimes found it easy to take for granted that Jack was willing to sacrifice his life at any moment for any of them. "Jack gave decades to the Army, time away from his family, from his father when the man was dying, all so he could serve his country, to defend freedoms you enjoy every day, Boze. He's the only reason I made it back in one piece. You get that, right?"

"Most days I do," Bozer nodded, looking slightly contrite. "I appreciate him more than I can say. But then Jack does something entirely _Jack_ and I forget."

Mac started to open his mouth to refute that logic, but then realized he couldn't. He was guilty of the same thing. "Maybe we both should work harder on remembering."

"As long as you pull through this, I can promise to do that." Bozer gave Mac a half smile. "That is after I give our boy Jack the cold shoulder for a while and withhold all his favorite foods, including my amazing French toast, and there's no way I'm ever making him a cup of coffee again."

"How very passive aggressive of you," Mac returned Bozer's grin, albeit a bit shakily, knowing his roommate would not hold out long before capitulating to Jack. When they finally made their way into the inner sanctum of Five-0 headquarters, Jerry was at the computer table, his eyes glued to the screen above. Hammond was on the other side with his back to them, cell phone pressed to his ear. Curie lifted her head, tail wagging as they approached.

"Commander McGarrett, do you read?" Jerry was speaking as Mac and Bozer reached the table. He raised an eyebrow at the two newcomers but didn't say anything about Mac's appearance.

"What's happening?" Mac glanced up at the screen, blinking to clear his vision. He saw a slightly blurry satellite image of a house visible through a break in the heavy tree coverage but no visible movement that indicated either team.

"Something's interfering with our communications." Jerry glanced at Mac, his worried frown deepening. "One minute our connection was fine, but now it's like the signal has been completely blocked. I can't get anyone to respond."

"Have you tried their cells?" Bozer asked, still keeping a hand close to Mac.

"Commander McGarrett said to stick to coms until they've cleared the house." Jerry gestured to Hammond. "The General is talking to Chin because they found no trace of Nobel at their location."

"They did, however find a very disgruntled celebrity." Hammond put the phone down, shooting Mac a frown. He either knew there was no point in reprimanding Mac for disobeying doctor's orders, or was too wrapped in the current mission to make an issue of it. "The governor may be issuing a formal apology considering the man had apparently taken great means not to be discovered by his adoring fans which explains the red flag his duplicitous manner of renting the house sent up."

Bozer snorted, looking from Hammond to Mac. "I'm going out on a limb and guess that getting accosted in the middle of the night by scary-ass men in full combat gear and night vision goggles is worse than a full-on Paparazzi blitz. Take it from someone who's experienced a surprise home invasion, he's bound to be pissed."

"I told Chin and our boys to head to Team One's location," Hammond continued, looking up at the screen, his thin brows drawing together in a dark look. "I don't have a good feeling about this."

Mac was about to suggest Jerry disregard McGarrett's orders for cell communication when a bright flash filled the screen above. The entire view washed out for a few brief moments. Mac's heart slammed against his chest, a tight band of dread wrapping around it, stealing Mac's breath.

"Now what?" Jerry grumbled, tapping the computer table, wrongly assuming they'd experienced another interruption in signal.

"No, no, no," Mac muttered stepping closer, understanding the truth. His eyes locked on the screen where an all too familiar scenario was playing out. Hammond reached out and gripped Mac's arm when he swayed, the general also seeming to realize what had just taken place.

"We're back," Jerry said when the image momentarily cleared.

Mac was unable to take his eyes off the three dimensional object that had been the house as it appeared to spread out 360 degrees, the surrounding trees moving out from the blast range like a wave. It happened so fast that anyone not familiar with seeing explosions from an aerial view, a structure leveled via satellite footage, would have missed it. Mac held out hope that he was wrong, that maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, some weird side effect of the poison. That lasted right up until the dust cloud from the building materials being pulverized plumed above the site, effectively blinding them once more.

"No!" Mac shouted, half lunching, partly staggering towards the screen as if he could actually do something to stop or effect what was happening. Life had taught him all too well how things changed in a shock-filled second. For instance, it was possible for a son who had only known security, to find himself an orphan, unsure of everything and everyone in one faulty breath. A scholar who had always kept his firm footing in knowledge and his foundation in time-proven theories, could stumble, unravel, becoming completely undone in the time it took for an IED to obliterate the fellow soldier standing just ten feet from him. Then there was the fact that in a blinding flash, either from gun or in this case a bomb, a man could find himself alone, stripped of something, someone, which made him whole. "Jack," he gasped.

Hammond's hold tightened. "Steady, son."

"Mac, what's wrong?" Bozer demanded, his eyes moving from Mac to the big screen and back. "What's going on?"

"What was that?" Jerry echoed Bozer's dismay. His fingers flew across the table in an effort to cause some sort of change. It was a labor Mac understood to be useless until the cloud of debris dissipated on its own. By then the image of the house would be a very different one. Carnage would lay in its wake.

The structure, no matter its construction would be rubble, water pipes would be severed, shooting geysers, insulation floating in the wind. If there were natural gas lines, which Mac prayed there wasn't, pipes would become fire breathing dragons, shooting flame lengths as much as fifteen to twenty feet high. He felt his knees weaken, threaten to buckle, at the precise images his mind conjured, his knowledge of such destruction undeniable and painfully unavoidable. Mac would have explained, would have cast blinding light on the situation for Bozer and Jerry but it was taking all his energy just to breathe, to keep himself from giving in to the panic that was trying to claw itself from the pit where Mac locked every terrible thing he'd seen and done and survived.

"Jerry, patch me into the officer in charge at the PD that Steve had on standby," Hammond ordered.

Mac vaguely heard Jerry mutter a 'yes, sir'. Hammond waited for Bozer to come alongside Mac before he released the grip on his arm, picking his cell up from the table. If Mac had been on location, this is where Mac would have made a break for the house despite those who'd undoubtedly try to stop him, he would have charged into the bowels of hell to save his partner. Thoughts of Pena rolled through his mind, taunting how inexcusably helpless he'd been to extricate his CO from a blast that took place a short distance away. Jack was unreachable. Still, every single instinct Mac possessed thrummed, demanding he act, his body visibly quaking with the need to do something.

"Mac, you're shaking," Bozer said softly, tightening his grip on Mac's arm. "Are you okay?"

"I don't understand what happened to the satellite feed?" Jerry's voice sounded muffled like he was speaking underwater, or trapped in a barrel. Mac wanted to scream at him. How could he not realize by now that a bomb had destroyed everything? "I understand we could have lost coms because of the secret room they found, but…"

"Wait. What?"Mac asked breathlessly as a faint spark of hope pierced through shock. He blinked, coming back to himself, his mind calculating possibilities, pulling out of shutdown mode. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you were alright?" Bozer answered, only to have Mac shake off his grasp.

"Not you, Boze." Mac turned to Jerry, ignoring the nauseating listing the room took at his movement. Hammond had stepped away, speaking quietly into his cell, although Mac still caught the words big ass explosion. Mac hoped he was talking to Chin and Pauley, that they were in route. Pauley would know what to do on scene. Mac would focus on the new lifeline he had just found in Jerry's proclamation. "What did you say about a secret room?"

"Commander MacGarrett discovered a bunker just before I lost communication. They thought it was some something from the Kennedy era, you know a bomb shelter," Jerry explained. "They'd just gone in, against Danny's wishes, when you showed up. I guessed the thickness of the concrete was why I lost coms but that…"Jerry waved at the screen where a mass blocked their view, "I'm not sure."

"That," Mac gestured to the screen, his other hand gripping the table for support. "Is a blast site. Ground zero."

"A bomb?" Bozer's voice quaked, eyes widening to saucers. "As in the house just blew up?"

"Yes," Mac turned from his roommate, not able to deal with the mirrored devastation that would no doubt come when Bozer processed that Jack and the others were in the house. Instead he stared at Jerry, which was bad enough considering the man's eyes were as expressive as Curie's. "Did you say bunker? And that it was made of concrete?"

After a moment where Jerry seemed to compute what Mac had just told them, and then impressively gathered his wits about him, he nodded. "Like the ones from the fifties, when everyone was afraid of an attack on American soil."

"Mac," General Hammond must have caught the tell end of their conversation. "Could our boys have survived that blast if they were in a bomb shelter?"

"I don't know what type of explosion it was, possibly a propane blast considering it would be hard for Nobel to get his hands on materials to create much else, especially if it was short notice," Mac ran both hands through his hair, frustrated that his usual quick mind was struggling to extrapolate possible outcomes from unknown but likely parameters. He blamed the poison, his emotional state not helping the process. He took a breath, hoping to clear some of the fuzz and looked at Hammond. "If the bunker was constructed of a concrete of sufficient thickness, had enough corners, the adequate change of directions to buffer them from the blast shock wave, it's likely the room would hold and they'd been spared the worst of it."

"Pauley," Hammond barked into the cell he was still holding. "We think our guys might have been hunkered down at the time of detonation. This is now a rescue mission. Get your asses there, ASAP. I want a sit rep as soon as you're on site. HPD should arrive right after you."

"You sure they were all in there?" Bozer asked, his desperate gaze going from Jerry to Mac and then back.

"I know they were," Jerry nodded, confidently. "I lost coms and thermal on all three."

"That's good, right?" Bozer was focused completely on Mac now, nodding his head slowly, willing for Mac to reassure him. "You said Jack and the others would be alright?"

"My God…" Jerry's breathless exclamation had them both looking up at the screen where enough of the cloud had cleared that they could once more see images from the keyhole satellite they were using.

"Is that the house…" Bozer asked, hand going to his mouth in stunned disbelief.

Ground zero was just as Mac imagined. Obliteration. He squinted, rubbed his eyes roughly before studying the circumference of the blast zone. Mac followed the invisible diameter, bisecting it with the radius, praying to find something still standing. "There." He pointed to the center of the ruin, where a dimensional object was still recognizable beneath the devastation, pushing through the wreckage like a lone shoot of grass in a wasteland of ice and snow. "The bunker's still intact."

"Well, I'll be damned," Hammond let loose with a slight laugh. "Leave it to those bastards McGarrett and Dalton to stumble into the perfect fox hole in the nick of time. God really does suffer fools and children."

Mac knew they weren't out of the woods yet. There was no guarantee that just because the bunker appeared to be whole in the infrared image, didn't mean that it wasn't damaged, or that the men inside had withstood the force of what was equivalent to momentarily being battered by the force of a Tsunami. He understood how cruel and cutting hope could sometimes be, but Mac had always found it preferable every time to the alternative. He gave Hammond a shaky grin, his knees feeling weak. "Good thing for us Jack often fits both those descriptions."

Hammond squeezed Mac's shoulder, a real grin splitting his typically somber face. "We wouldn't have our boy any other way."

"We should get going," Mac gestured to the door intent on getting to the scene to help in any way he could. He did himself no favors when he tottered as he started forward, having to grip the table once more for support. "I want to be there when they pull them out."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Shepherd." Hammond glanced at Bozer who had once more moved closer to Mac. Hammond's mask of confidence slipped, revealing his worry that the outcome might not as good as he hoped. Curie whined, bumping her body against the general's legs. "You're not in the best shape to be going out in the field and if…."

"The General's right, Mac. Jack wouldn't…" Bozer started, but one glare from Mac had him closing his mouth, lifting his hands in surrender."I know. Not my call."

"I'm going." Mac didn't care if someone had to carry him, he was not sitting on his hands while Jack could be hurt, or worse. "With or without you." He rubbed a hand over his forehead, willing the persisting headache to go away. "'I'll take a taxi if necessary, but I'm going to back up my partner."

"Chin and the others just arrived," Jerry's voice broke the standoff. He gestured to the screen when all eyes went to him. "HPD is right behind them."

Jerry had split their view, the aerial shot showing both the house and another image of the road leading into the secluded area. Mac could make out five vehicles moving swiftly. At the house, he watched Chin and the others exit their cars.

"Get coms up with them, Jerry," Hammond ordered. "I want you to relay everything to me, and me only." The general tapped his ear, a move that Mac knew meant he wanted to filter whatever news before relaying it to Mac. Mac would have taken objection, requested his own com if not for the fact he had a feeling that would have been pushing his luck as the general's hard gaze zeroed in on him. "Both you and the civilian will stay with me and out of the way, you will also do whatever the hell I tell you to do, Mac, just like the old days, when you were actually scared of me."

"I was never afraid of you," Mac lied, his mouth twitching slightly. "But I think I remember how to fake it."

"Smart ass," Hammond grumbled, pointing a finger at Curie. "Stay with Jerry, girl. Daddy's going to work."

They were only fifteen minutes into the drive when Hammond received word from Jerry that Steve, Danny and Jack were all three alive. Mac breathed easily for the first time since waking from the nightmare.

"It's all good, Mac." Bozer reached over the back seat, squeezing Mac's shoulder. "Jack pulled off his own Die Hard scene."

"I still want to go to the site," Mac insisted, despite the pounding in his head having picked up cadence. He fought off a shiver, feeling cold once more. Bozer had mixed the lemon grass in a bottle of water, but Mac had found it hard to drink with his stomach so unsettled. Still, it was not enough to keep him from seeing for himself that Jack was in one piece. The look Hammond shot him as he continued to listen to Jerry on the two way had him once more on the edge of his seat.

"What's wrong?" Mac instantly picked up on the general's hesitation, the stiffness in his clipped voice as he told Jerry to keep him informed. "Hammond?"

"You were right about the integrity of the bunker holding. They're all three out, a bit shaken up, but Steve and Jack are taking a run to the hospital."

"Why?" Mac demanded. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Damn it, Shepherd." Hammond gripped the steering wheel, sending a glower to Mac. "Contrary to what you believe everything that comes out of my mouth isn't a half truth. This isn't like Iraq. I'm not withholding intel in some kind of conspiracy." He ran a hand over his bald head, letting lose with a huff. "Jack took a hard blow to the head, but he was awake, alert enough to relay he didn't want you leaving headquarters and he sure as hell didn't want you in that disaster area where you'd be out in the open when Nobel could be anywhere. Steve sliced his hand pretty good. Williams is going to ride in with them. I'm guessing they're all still doing a lot better than you, and they just had a house annihilated around them."

"Jack and I have a rule about hospital runs." Mac folded his arms over his chest, doing his best to ignore the wave of dizziness that overtook him. "We don't do them alone."

"You and Jack are two hard head sonsofbitches," Hammond bit out.

"What hospital?" Mac refused to budge. He'd been set aside for the alleged sake of his own good enough and refused to be shelved away yet again. Far from a child who needed protection, Mac had proven himself time and again, especially to the equally stubborn general driving.

"How the hell should I know?" Hammond snapped irritably, gesturing to the dark road before them. "This is Hawaii not D.C. Hell, I could navigate the mountains of Afghanistan better than this island."

"Bozer," Mac turned in the passenger seat. "Call Jerry, find out where they'd take them. Get him to send us the closest route there."

"What happened to the deal we had about you listening to me?" Hammond growled, slamming his hand on the steering wheel.

"We never made it to ground zero, so I consider that null and void." When the general narrowed his gaze and flashed Mac an incredulous glower, Mac added a contrite "Sir".

"Did I ever mention how you and Dalton are cut from the same damn cloth?"

"Maybe one time or twenty." Mac was still pissed at Hammond, not quite as willing to give him the benefit of the doubt as he'd been with Jack. Mac trusted Jack without question, even if he'd lied about the missions, he understood Jack's intentions. As much as Mac wanted to believe the general was complicit to merely cover for Jack, he wasn't quite convinced the man hadn't used Jack's determination to save Mac from the ravages of Afghanistan to his own advantage somehow. Memories of Jack being held captive and tortured in Iraq cast a long shadow. One thing Mac didn't' doubt, however, was that Hammond genuinely cared for the men under his command. Thinking Steve and Jack had been killed, even if for a few moments, had to have had an effect on the man. Mac shook his head slightly, pulling himself free from his thoughts. "We both know you want to check in with them, too. If I remember right, Jack and I aren't the only ones with a rule about hospital visits."

"They're taking them to Tripler, Mac," Bozer spoke up from the backseat. "Their ETA is like ten minutes. Ours about thirty. Jerry's sending the address to your phone."

"You planning on commandeering the vehicle, son?" Hammond shot Mac another frown. "I'm not even sure you could drive in your current condition."

"I'm guessing I won't have to, or are you taking orders from Tombstone now?" If nothing else, Mac would play to the general's hubris.

"Plug in the damn address." Hammond growled, gesturing to the SUV's navigational system. "But when Dalton goes ballistic, it's all on you, kid."

"Like that scares him," Bozer huffed. "When it comes to Jack if I'm a crunchy thing dipped in ketchup that fire breathing dragons like to devour, Mac's the stuff that makes them roll over and expose their belly for a nice scratch. That's on a good day, throw in that he looks like he's been run through the mill a couple of times and he's practically the dragon version of catnip."

Mac pretended to ignore his best friend as he punched in the address for the hospital. He needed two tries before he had the whole address right – his hand shaking too much. Before the entire mess with Nobel, Mac might have easily agreed he was one of Jack's soft spots, perhaps even conceded under pressure that he had a great deal of sway when it came to his partner, but never once had he truly considered himself a weakness in Jack's armor, something that could cause him to let down his guard or a pawn to be used against him in the worst possible way. It had Mac's head spinning worse than it had been already, the nausea that had plagued him since waking, steadily increasing.

"You alright there, Mac?" Hammond's voice had gentled, his face losing all signs of anger as he glanced at the younger man who had slumped back in the seat, his adrenaline fed energy suddenly waning in the wake of knowing Jack was alive and not in immediate danger.

"I'm good." Mac knew the general didn't buy it, the look of genuine concern proof he was holding back on what he really wanted to say. Mac managed a half way decent grin. "But I'll be better after I give Jack hell for getting himself blown up-again."

"This tops the Humvee incident." Hammond grunted, shooting one more side glance Mac's way. "You sorted him out just fine then. I'm sure you'll do the same this time."

Mac nodded, resting his head against the cool glass of the passenger window. The only thing Mac wanted to sort out was the way he and Jack had left things earlier. He'd almost lost the chance. Mac wouldn't make the same mistake again, not when he was carrying around a ticking time bomb of his own, one he had a feeling he wouldn't be lucky enough to find shelter against.

It was thoughts of fixing things with Jack that kept him on his feet, pushing through the desire to just curl up in one of the chairs in the waiting room. He had refused Bozer's help, insisting to go alone when the nurse agreed, after Hammond intervened, to take him back to the examination area where Jack was being treated.

"Hey." Mac tried to keep the immense relief from showing on his face as he made his way into curtained off area where Jack was sitting on a table. His partner looked up, a mix of surprise and then irritation coloring his expression.

"Mac?" Jack started to move from the exam table but Mac held up a hand to stop him, continuing his way into the room with a great effort to make it seem far from the struggle it was. He felt new sweat breaking out on his forehead, his heart hammering in his chest with the added struggle to stay upright. "What the hell are you doing here? Where's Bozer?"

"Aren't you the one who has been trying to get me to agree to a hospital visit?" Mac offered a tentative grin, which was preferable to the grimace he wanted to make when he caught sight of the spectacular bruising that bled from Jack's hair line to the right side of his face. "Although I have to say getting yourself blown up is bit of extreme measure to get your way."

"Funny." Jack's face remained serious, his eyes giving Mac a scrutinizing once over. "I told Hammond to let you know I was fine, for you stay put. Steve wouldn't let me come back to headquarters without at least getting my head checked out by a real doctor this time."

"Hammond told me what you said, and then I told him he we had a rule about hospital runs." Mac gave Jack a pointed look, feeling somewhat satisfied when Jack gave a slight nod, knowing he couldn't deny their long ago pact. "Either he isn't exactly up to arguing with me at this point or working in Washington has worn him down. What did the doctor say, by the way?" Mac gestured to Jack's face. "You look scarier than usual."

"Hammond feels guilty, which I'm totally for you using to your advantage, but you should save the payback for something better than this." Jack gestured to the bruising on his face. "This is not as bad as it looks. Really. It's nothing, dude. Surface damage. A set of lights shook loose from the ceiling in the explosion and got the drop on me. I'm just waiting on the X-rays to come back so I can clear out as soon as the doc releases me." Jack's eyes narrowed as he studied Mac's pale face. "But since you're here, maybe you should…"

"What are you wearing?" Mac chose to focus on the strange shirt Jack had on instead of the potential argument he saw brewing in his partner's concerned gaze. He crossed his arms over his chest, hoping it looked more casual than him just being cold.

"This?" Jack gestured to the image of the smiling man on his shirt, his face still serious, though a slight grin twitched at the corner of his mouth. "This is Hawaii's own Renaissance Man-Kamekona. He's a terrible physician, but I hear he makes some mean shrimp, although I am yet to taste any of his culinary delights."

"That shirt pretty much makes any future comments you might have about my choice in wardrobe null and void. You get that, right?"

"Hey, it was either this or be a walking billboard for the Navy." Jack arched a brow. "What would you have done, brother?"

Mac grimaced. "I would rather wear a shirt with Kamekona's nether regions on it than advertise for Navy."

"That's my boy." Jack gave a genuine smile, which eased the knot of worry coiled in Mac's stomach enough that the one he returned didn't feel so forced.

"The compress makes sense now. I appreciate your improvising." Mac held Jack's gaze, biting back on the fact Jack could have woken him up, at least told him about going after Nobel. If things had gone another way, the last words they spoke would have been angry ones.

"We both know there's not much I won't do for you, brother-lie, steal, kill a few people. Playing nurse is nothing." Jack glanced away, hitched one shoulder. "Hell, tearing up McGarrett's shitty shirt was just a bonus." He ran a hand through his hair, wincing when it seemed his fingers brushed over a tender spot.

The mention of the lengths Jack would go to for Mac had his smile disappearing, some of his strength fleeing. He hoped the fact he had to lean on the examination table looked like the casual move he tried to pull off.

"It seems Nobel was playing with you." Mac glanced at Jack, one hand rubbing absently at his pounding temple. "Pauley reported back that the blast came from a 5 gallon propane tank in the garage. It was enough to take down the house, but not destroy the bunker. It was a remote detonation. He waited until he knew you were all inside."

"It didn't feel so much like playing from where I was sitting." Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought for sure we were goners as soon as I saw the camera and read his message."

"Message?" Mac quirked a brow, his eyes meeting Jack's.

"Boom." Jack rolled his eyes, his fingers curling into a fist. "Nobel never was very creative, except when it came to chemistry, crazy bastard."

"He wanted to make it plain that you needed to do what he said, and not try and work another angle."

"He's already made the fact that he's holding all the cards pretty damn clear to me by poisoning you. I was just hoping we might get a lucky break and get the antidote earlier than what he had in mind." Mac tried to look better than he felt as his partner studied him once more. "How's the fever by the way?" Jack didn't wait for Mac to answer, taking the opportunity of Mac's proximity to reach up and press the back of his hand to the younger man's brow.

"It's gone down some."Mac answered elusively, though he didn't duck his head quick enough. His partner's brows drew together when his fingers brushed against heated skin.

"Damn, Mac. Down from what? Hot enough to fry an egg on your forehead?" Jack pulled his hand back, new worry on his face.

"I hear you had a go-round with Bozer?" Mac didn't want to waste time on his current condition. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, hoping to clear away the black dots at the edge of his vision. It was taking great effort on his part to keep his mind off of what was happening in his body, especially with the constant headache making it hard to focus on little else, and he didn't need Jack worrying about it anymore than necessary.

Jack smirked, though he gave Mac another once over, giving a shake of his head at the obvious redirect. "Bozer's a tattle-tale."

"Let me guess," Mac turned, propping a hip on the table, removing some of the burden from his weak legs feeling a bit like heaven. "Bozer started it?"

"Mostly." Jack glanced down at the floor then back up at Mac. "I might have let some tension and stress from the last couple of days bleed off in an unfriendly way, but there was no bloodshed so I'd say I showed unusually good restraint, at least for me."

"I appreciate that you didn't kill him." Mac was only half kidding. Bozer had been luckier than some men Mac had seen back Jack Dalton into a corner. "I'd hate to break in a new roommate after all these years."

"I figured as much." Jack sent a sidelong glance Mac's way. "I've already messed with our friendship enough without kicking Bozer's ass. I'm sorry as hell about that, by the way." Jack's eyes locked with Mac's glassy ones. "I know how you feel about the whole trust thing. Messing with your head is the last thing I'd want to do. "

"Jack…" Mac started, seeing his opportunity to set the record straight between them. He opened his mouth to continue but suddenly the words were stolen, not by his usual hesitancy to have any deep conversations about his feelings but by the sharp, stabbing pain that suddenly lanced through his skull and would have assuredly dropped him if Jack hadn't sprung from the table, catching him as his legs gave way.

"Mac!" Jack gripped Mac's shoulders, trying to keep him upright. His voice was panicked.

Mac barely registered the pressure on his arms, or his partner's struggles to keep him from the floor. He couldn't see because he'd squeezed his eyes against the unexpected onslaught which was a bit like liquid lava splashing over his brain. He clutched at his head, fingers twisting in his hair as he fought to somehow manage the attack that was so much worse than the first time Mac had experienced it back at Five-0. Heat washed through him accompanied by a wave of nausea.

If he'd been able to catch his breath, Mac would have screamed, wasn't completely sure he didn't at least give it a good try when he barely heard Jack shout his name again, felt his partner pull him closer, obviously hoping to shield him. Mac wasn't trying to fight Jack, but he pulled away, curling into a ball, desperate only to escape the relentless assault that he understood Jack had no power against. He succeeded only in dragging him and Jack to the floor. The tile jarring when he hit, but was also cool and somehow soothing against his hot skin when he rolled away from his partner. Mac blinked furiously, trying to see well enough to scramble for the door, although somewhere in the back of his mind he understood it made no sense to try and flee the room. His attacker was wreaking havoc from inside him.

Red Converse high tops appeared in Mac's blurred field of vision. He had just a moment to think 'Bozer' before another jolt rumbled through his skull, sparking flashes of light behind eyelids that Mac had once more slammed shut. It was too much. Mac did scream this time. A blood-curdling primal sound that Mac couldn't quite believe had come from him. He also screamed Jack's name, shamelessly begging his partner to help him.

Distantly, he heard Jack yell, too. Jack shouted for Bozer to get a doctor.

Then Mac was being cradled, lifted off the floor, placed on the table where Jack had been sitting. Jack covered Mac's hands with his own, talking to him in hushed, frantic words. Mac caught the 'just breathe, Mac' and 'you're okay, kiddo' through the other garbled syllables his hurting mind couldn't quite process. Distantly he felt his body starting to heave, thankful he had nothing left in his stomach to come up although Jack managed to roll him to his side.

What felt like hours were probably only minutes. The release came as quickly as the spell had started. In fact, it took Mac a moment to realize he'd been freed from the throws of torment when the worst of the suffering receded swiftly like a giant wave that had just pulverized a beach only to return to a calm sea. Even in the ecstasy of liberation, Mac's heart pounded at a furious beat, his breathing came triple its normal rate as blackness crept around the edges of his vision. He had to fight to keep from slipping into unconsciousness-a fate almost as scary as another round of pain. At least in the fighting he wasn't alone. Jack was here.

"Don't go." His voice sounded foreign and deploringly weak, yet Mac couldn't even garner enough strength to be even a little embarrassed by his desperation. He let go of his head, gripping the front of Jack's crazy shirt, twisting Kamekona's likeness around his fingers. "Please don't leave."

"Hey now." Jack covered the hand clutching to him with one his of own, the other he moved to rest gently against Mac's forehead, before letting his fingers slide soothingly over Mac's hair. "I'm right here, bud. I'm not going anywhere. I've got you. I swear."

Mac wanted to say more, to tell Jack he was wasn't mad, that he was sorry for doubting him, that they were okay, but the blackness was back, more insistent than before. This time Mac was too tired not to give in so instead, he simply let go.

To be continued…


	11. Chapter 11

Guard Your Heart

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Many thanks to those who reviewed and cheered me on after the last chapter. As always your words are great inspiration. This chapter was definitely a joint collaboration with my lovely beta, Mary. She added so much to this piece, and talked me from some ledges, despite being on vacation. Shout out to Kelcor as I might not have even written Jack's POV if not for her insistent prompting! Also Poxelda's Nurse Sally is mentioned here. This chapter is dedicated to all the soldiers- men, women and dogs who fight for freedom. Here, in the US we will be celebrating tomorrow because of their courageous efforts, but it's my hope that we might recognize their sacrifice and ongoing struggles on a more daily basis. It's one of the reasons I frequently mention Jack and Mac's time in the Army. I hope in a small, tiny way that it might remind us that soldiers on all fronts have faces, families and people who love them. Enjoy!

RCJ

Jack was barely quick enough.

Mac had just spoken his name when Nobel's poison showed itself once more. Like the sniper's bullet that had started this whole damn mess, Jack didn't see it coming. Once again he was pathetically ham-fisted in doing a damn thing to prevent it from happening.

Jack practically sprang from the examination table, catching Mac on the way down as the kid collapsed. He tried to keep Mac from hitting the floor, but his best friend was dead weight. Jack would have liked to have blamed the mild concussion the doctor told him he had, maybe blood loss from his earlier knife wound for his failure to see what was about to happen, the ambush that was just out of sight. But as his best friend cried out in pain, eyes squeezed shut tight against the onslaught, Jack felt the weight of guilt crash upon him as rock-solid and unforgiving as the bunker's overhead lights had been.

"Mac!" Jack gripped his partner's shoulders, his heart galloping against his chest, stomach twisting painfully as heat registered through Mac's thin shirt sleeves. Mac's strangled cry, the kind of mewling Jack had once heard from a wounded deer, seemed to set every one of his nerve endings on edge. His immediate response wasn't unlike one of the moments when he found his unit under fire in the desert. Every one of his senses narrowed, sharpened and enhanced far past normal. Endorphins flowed, demanding he run or fight. Jack's first choice was always to fight. Only this time there wasn't an enemy he could see or wage war against.

He tried to do what he would have done if they had been out in the open and were suddenly under attack by unseen forces. Jack's instinct was to protect Mac, to defend him. Mac had his hands braced at either side of his head and writhed wildly in the older agent's hold making the task damn near impossible. Jack's knees struck the floor and he didn't take as much of Mac's weight as he hoped. The sudden jar set off a chain reaction in Jack's own body, sending a spike of pain through his wounded side, straight up to his aching skull. He was quick to push the pain aside, but not fast enough because Mac managed to scramble out of his grasp.

The kid was belly-crawling across the floor towards the door that was past the curtained off area of the examination room, his own instincts obviously telling him to find an escape. It wrenched Jack's heart, the knot in his stomach tightening. For a moment Jack had a flash of Mac working his way across the land mine ridden sand with intense concentration and complete confidence. The sudden door slamming open and curtain sliding back snapped Jack into the present, had him automatically reaching for the gun at his side. He glared at Bozer, dropping his hand as he berated himself for letting panic get the best of him. Now was not the time to lose it. Jack shook his head, taking a deep breath to settle his racing reflections back in the here and now.

Mac screamed this time, punctuating Jack's thoughts. A very human howl once more had images from the battle field springing unwanted, and unmercifully to Jack's mind. There were flashes of boys broken and dying in agony from horrific injuries. But not his boy. Jack had made certain of that. He'd done all he could to ensure Mac wasn't the one calling out for his mother or God. Yet despite his best efforts, here they were. Mac screaming for Jack. Begging him to help him.

"Get a damn doctor!" Jack barked, barely glancing at a gawking Bozer. "Now, Bozer. Go!"

"Come on, Kiddo." Jack took a breath, latched onto Mac, scooping him off the floor in a move fueled by pure adrenaline. The faint pull on his butterfly bandages barely registered. He carefully placed his partner on the examination table, talking to the kid, hoping to break through Mac's agony. "Just breathe, Mac." Jack fought to ignore Mac's too fast wheezing. Not sure if the kid was hyperventilating from the pain or if this was one if the poison's effects Dr. Kunha had spoken of.

Jack placed his hands over his partner's, trying to offer whatever comfort he could. "You're okay, bud." He reassured. "Can you hear me, Mac?" There was a slight trickle of blood beneath Mac's nose and Jack tried not to let his thoughts run wild with ideas of brain trauma and hemorrhaging. His eyes briefly went to the door, than back to his partner, his hand squeezing Mac's. "Hey, I'm right here."

Jack would have liked to think his voice had some kind of power, that maybe his presence had fought back the tide, as sure as he'd time after time driven back Taliban forces, but he was acutely aware that it was more than likely some kind of sick cycle of the toxin when Mac suddenly shuddered and tension visibly fled from his rigid body.

"Mac?" Jack prayed for his best friend to open his eyes. He used his thumb to wipe at the blood which mocked his failure to protect Mac, managing only to smear it across the younger man's pale face in the process. "Come on, kiddo. Talk to me." Jack wasn't above pleading at this point.

"Don't go." Mac rasped out hoarsely. He blinked slowly, finally opening his fever-bright eyes. He looked as dazed and hurt as someone who had just been unexpectedly pounded by the force of an exploding RPG and didn't quite understand what had happened, but Jack couldn't keep the relieved grin from his face.

"Damn, bud. Way to give me a heart attack." Jack ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders sagging.

Mac blinked again, seeming to struggle with focusing on his surroundings. Jack wasn't even sure his partner was consciously aware. His breathing was still way too quick. One of his hands moved from his head to grab hold of Jack's shirt, twisting it in a surprisingly strong hold. "Please don't leave." The words were slurred but Jack could easily make out the desperation and panic.

"Hey now." Jack cringed at how young his partner sounded. Hated that he had no doubt added to that raw fear of being abandoned that was mixed with the stark pain in the kid's wide eyes. "I'm right here, bud. I'm not going anywhere." Jack covered Mac's hand with one of his own, squeezing as he let the other rest on Mac's sweat covered brow. He held Mac's glassy gaze, willing his partner to understand. "I swear." He emphasized. "I've got you."

Mac watched him for a moment and Jack could see the sliding away even before he felt Mac's fingers loosen their grip on his shirt. "Mac! Stay with me, damn it." Jack patted the kid's cheek, panic rushing in once more. "Mac!"

"Jack!" Bozer was back and invading more of Jack's personal space than he would have liked. Though if the shuffle of hurried feet was any indication he'd brought help, and for that alone Jack could live with the hovering.

"Mac." Jack didn't look up, still concentrating on his partner as he pressed his fingers to Mac's throat, desperate for confirmation the younger man had only lost consciousness. The erratic, frantic beating didn't do much to reassure him. "Come on, brother."

"Agent Dalton, we need you to move." Dr. Kamaka, who had treated Jack earlier tried to gently maneuver Jack out of the way. "Let us check on your partner." His voice was calm and confident as he ordered one of the nurses to start Mac on oxygen, telling the other to get an IV in. Jack wasn't ready to relinquish control, despite knowing others much more capable of helping Mac were now on the scene.

"Jack." Bozer was even closer, his voice insistent but calm as well. He went so far as to lay a hand on Jack's arm and Jack showed great restraint in not jerking away. "Step back. Let them take care of Mac."

"How long has he been unconscious?" Kamaka asked, his stethoscope pressed to Mac's chest, his face showing nothing as he performed a quick assessment. He and the nurses' movements were well-practiced and concise, a fact Jack tried to focus on instead of the rush at which they were performing their duties, a hurry he was afraid spoke to the gravity of the situation.

"Just now." Jack did as Bozer asked and took a step from the table, sliding a hand over his face. He drew a shaky breath. He could not lose Mac. Not this way. Jack had once told Mac having his death on his conscience would kill him. He should be so lucky. There would be no swift mercy. Mac's dying would methodically dismantle Jack. "He just passed out. Is he okay? What are you going to do?"

"Can you explain what happened?" Kamaka returned without answering Jack's question.

"I don't know!" Jack snapped, his tenuous grasp on patience failing. He reflexively clenched and unclenched his fists. "One minute the kid and I were talking and the next he grabbed his head and nearly face planted."

"Was it another attack like back at the station?" Dr. Kunha asked Jack, surprising him with her close proximity. He hadn't even noticed the woman before she spoke, a sad commentary on his current state. In all fairness, he didn't know Noelani was at the hospital, but was grateful seeing that she at least knew what was going on with Mac.

"I think so." Jack glanced from Noelani to Bozer and then back, fighting hard to get his thoughts and emotions back in order. Losing his shit would not help Mac one damn bit. "Only it was worse. A whole hell of lot worse."

"Dr. Kunha has informed me that Agent MacGyver has been poisoned by a lethal toxin," Kamaka glanced at Jack, his eyes giving the agent a critical once over, perhaps wondering why Jack hadn't mentioned his partner was in dire straits during their brief earlier interlude. "She said there is an ongoing search for the antidote?" He raised his brow.

"Yeah," Jack ran a hand through his hair, wincing when his fingers hit a tender spot from his encounter with the bunker light. He was frustrated by the reminder he was still standing there wasting precious time his partner didn't have. "We're still working on that."

"I told you the episodes would get worse if…" Noelani started to recant her speech she'd given earlier in Chin's office but was interrupted by a scuffle on the table beside them when one of the nurses attempted to start the prescribed IV.

"Jack." Mac's voice was still weak and hoarse, also laced with alarm. It was music to Jack's ears, but a subsequent attempt to evade and escape on Mac's part was not helpful.

"Easy, brother. I'm here." Jack quickly made a spot between Kamaka and the two nurses currently bustling around his partner so Mac could see he hadn't abandoned his post. "It's okay. You're okay. Just calm down so the nice doctor can try and straighten you out." Jack gripped Mac's too warm hand when the kid's anxious gaze sought him out. He forced a grin he didn't feel. "As usual you're causing quite the stir in the medical staff. You never can just come in for a routine check-up, can you?"

"Agent MacGyver, how do you feel?" Kamaka leaned over his patient, pulling a pen light from his jacket. With a groan Mac tried to turn away, his grip tightening on Jack's hand.

"Jack…" Mac made out through his panting. Confused too bright eyes fought to focus. "What…"

"Hang in there, brother." Jack bit his lip to keep from saying anything to Kamaka when the doctor used one hand to forcefully keep Mac's head still while he checked each eye, an act that had Mac gasping in pain and trying to roll towards Jack for shelter.

"Hurts."

"Agent Dalton, we need to get the IV going to combat dehydration." Kamaka's tone and the look he levelled on Jack made the request to restrain Mac clear and as much as Jack hated it, he knew the doctor was right. Berating himself for what he had to do next he used his other hand to maneuver Mac flat on the table once more, pinning his best friend's shoulders.

"No. I need to…" Mac's eyes roamed through the room, flitting on Bozer for a second.

"Come on, kiddo. You know the drill." Jack tried to sound nonchalant, moving his face in Mac's line of sight again. "The sooner you cooperate, the sooner the doctor and nurses put away all their torture devices and leave you be." Jack tried to ignore the look of betrayal that crossed Mac's face when Kamaka picked up a pair of scissors from amid instruments on the silver tray one of the nurses had slid close to the table and expertly slit the front of Mac's shirt, revealing the kid's heaving chest and the bandaged bullet wound from two days before. Jack swallowed the lump that sprung to his throat, another painful reminder that he had failed his priority mission. He smirked at his partner. "Don't be that way. You have a collection of those damn blue shirts. Maybe Steve has another Kamekona original we can get you."

Jack's attempt at playful banter fell flat. A pain-filled frown appeared on Mac's white face when he once again tried to sit up despite the restraining hand. "Jack… I need to tell you..."

"Can I get a temperature reading when you're done there?" The doctor nodded to the nurse who had gotten the requested oxygen going and was attempting to place the mask over Mac's head.

"It's okay, Mac." Jack tried to get ahead of the battle he knew was coming when Mac caught sight of the mask and his struggles increased. Ever since El Noche's little Nitrogen water boarding session Mac had a problem with his face being covered.

"Can I do that?" Jack looked to the nurse, flashing the doctor a hopeful look when the nurse hesitated. "It'll go easier. Trust me."

The nurse waited for Kamaka's nod before she handed off the mask to Jack, who offered Mac what he hoped was an encouraging smile as he slid it over his partner's face. "This will help you catch you breath, brother." After a moment Mac's struggle eased and he accepted the mask, though his grip on Jack's hand tightened painfully.

"When was he shot and when did this fever start, Agent?" Kamaka had removed the bandage from Mac's shoulder and was prodding the recent wound, his eyes glancing up at Jack.

Bozer was the one to answer. "He was shot two days ago, and the fever started yesterday." His gaze briefly met Noelani's. "He's not had anything for the fever except some lemon grass which he took about an hour ago."

"It's 103.1." The nurse who'd handed off the oxygen to Jack was back and had run a thermometer over Mac's forehead, giving the doctor her reading.

The doctor shook his head slightly and Jack wasn't sure if he was disgusted with the number, which did not sound good, or Bozer's explanation of their attempts at homeopathic treatment. "I'll need to see the latest blood panels, Noelani." His voice hardening. "I assume you have requested those?"Kamaka's hands roved expertly over Mac's torso as he spoke.

"Yes, sir." Noelani sounded a bit sheepish, and Jack realized that her unorthodox favor for Five-0 may have put her in a difficult position with the hospital, considering she was the ME and not a practicing physician. Jack imagined she didn't tend to ask for tests on living patients. "I was headed to the lab to pick them up when I ran into Detective Williams and Mr. Bozer."

"Agent MacGyver…" The doctor started only to be cut off by Jack and Bozer's parroting of 'Mac' to correct him. Jack counted it to his credit when Kameka kept his gaze on his patient, his lips turning up slightly as he started again. " _Mac_ , I want to take you down to Radiology now and get some scans so I can see what's going on." Seemingly ignoring the building protest of his patient he added, "Then I'd like to move you to ICU for monitoring and to see if we can do something about this pretty impressive fever."

"No." Mac groaned, his panicked eyes locked on Jack as a gurney bumped through the door and was brought alongside the examination table by two orderlies. He shook his head, reaching up to remove his mask, but Jack carefully caught his hand so not to dislodge the newly inserted IV. "Come on, dude. Let the white coats have some fun. You know how the pictures of your ginormous brain never fail to impress the neuro guys." Jack glanced at the doctor, not feeling the grin on his face. "It lights up like that Christmas tree in Central Park, Doc. You might want to have it framed because you'll never see another one like it. Makes the rest of us with normal brains look like the homely shrub Charlie Brown drug home with all the burned out bulbs."

"I can't stay here. I need to go with you…" Mac gasped in pain, muffled by the mask. His glassy eyes squeezing shut before he forced them open again, his gaze fixing on Jack. "Jack…don't leave," Mac struggled with the words but even through the mask Jack could hear the underlying fear, more driving than the residual pain Mac was still experiencing. Mac had once again latched onto his shirt and Jack's heart had picked up once more, his gut lurching as sure as he'd been punched. He didn't know if the high fever or the pain was to blame for his partner's uncharacteristic vulnerability but either way it drove home Jack's guilt with renewed vigor, revved up his protective instincts tenfold.

"I'm not going anywhere." Jack gently freed himself from Mac's weakening grasp, placing his partner's hand back on the table, giving it one final squeeze. "I'll be waiting in your room as soon as you get back." Jack winked, as Mac was transferred to the gurney and covered with a blanket by one of the nurses. "I'll make sure you get a good view, and the prettiest nurses on the floor."

"We both will." Bozer chimed in, his unsure glance going from Jack to Mac's tensed body on the now moving gurney.

"I'll go with him," Dr. Kunha patted Jack's arm as she brushed by him to follow after the gurney and the other doctor.

"Damn it!" Jack growled as the silver door swung closed behind them. The shaky grasp of his temper he'd maintained for Mac's benefit gave way to white hot anger as soon as his partner was out of his sight. Jack lashed out, swinging his arm in a motion that propelled the metal tray of instruments clattering across the floor. When that wasn't enough he kicked the exam table sending it spinning to collide with the far wall with an impressive bang. Panting slightly he turned looking for something else to unleash his fury upon, but found only Bozer, who he faced off with, fists clenched for battle.

"You can take a swing at me if it will make you feel better," Bozer seemed unreasonably calm in the face of Jack's hurricane of emotions. He even shrugged, once more proving to Jack that Bozer had little if any self-preservation instincts. "Though I doubt it's going to do a damn thing for Mac."

Jack huffed, turning and slamming his fist into the wall instead. It hurt like hell. He'd be damn lucky if he hadn't fractured anything. The pain was somewhat satisfying but Bozer was right in that it didn't do anything to change the fact Mac was dying and it was all Jack's fault.

"Sonofabitch!" Jack roared, gripping his hand to his chest, before turning his back to the wall. He leaned against it, giving it a vicious donkey kick before unlocking his knees and sliding to the floor in a boneless heap. "I am going to kill that fucking bastard Nobel."

"For once, I'm one hundred percent behind an act of violence." Bozer walked slowly towards Jack, stepping over some of the instruments and the kidney shaped bowl strewn in his path. He surprised the older man when he also took a seat on the floor facing Jack, crossing his legs casually as if they were just settling down for a chat around the fire pit on Mac's back deck. "As long as you get the antidote first that is."

A nurse came through the door before Jack could answer, obviously brought in by the sounds of destruction in her examination unit. She took a baffled look around at the mess, mouth agape.

"It's all good," Bozer assured, flashing one of his disarming trademark smiles. "We're just having a bit of a moment, that's all. Hospitals can be stressful, you know."

The nurse tilted her head, mouth opening then closing again. She appeared to gauge whether she wanted to object or if it was worth her energy. Another look at Jack and she merely spun on her heel, shaking her head and left them alone.

"I would do anything to change this." Jack let the back of his head bump against the wall. He hated that his voice was choked, that he could feel the hot prick of tears at the back of his eyes. If there was a way for Jack to somehow trade places with Mac, he'd have done it without hesitation. "You get that right?" Jack closed his eyes for a second, trying to take long slow breaths to get his emotions back in check.

"I believe you would do anything and everything to protect Mac." Bozer nodded, when Jack lifted his head and chanced a glance in his direction. "He told me about you still being in the Army."

"He has every right to hate me for lying to him about that." Jack swiped a hand roughly over his eyes, erasing any evidence of his weakness. "Not to mention this mess with Nobel."

"Mac could never hate you, Jack." Bozer emphasized, his mouth tipping up slightly. "Could Captain America hate Bucky?"

Jack rolled his eyes at the comparison they often joked about. "I can't even blame being brain washed on betraying Mac." He looked away, his gaze distant. Jack couldn't help but to feel every bit the villain.

"You lied to him, but you didn't betray him." Bozer grew serious once more, searching Jack's eyes. "That would mean you hurt him on purpose, and Mac believes that's something you would never do. He trusts you completely, maybe more than he trusts me, hell, probably more than he has ever let himself trust anyone since his dad left. I don't exactly get it, but that's how it is, just the same."

Jack worried a thread on his disaster of a shirt, staying quiet for a moment, letting Bozer's words sink in. They didn't make the feeling he'd failed spectacularly go away, or diminish the heaping of blame, but it felt somewhat better to at least know Bozer got that Jack hadn't intentionally brought any of this to their door.

"I only lied because I knew the stubborn ass would balk at me taking on those missions to get him out of the desert." Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the pounding rhythm of a building headache behind his eyes. When this all was over he would definitely sleep for a week. "He'd have insisted on serving out his time just like he had been doing, but after Helmand I was just afraid…" Jack hesitated, running his hand trough his hair.

"Afraid of what?" Bozer's voice was careful and tentative as if he was unsure of what answer he might get. His fingers had started to absently pull on one of his shoe laces.

Jack sighed, still not looking at Bozer. "After Helmand when Mac's friends were killed and he was really hurt," He hesitated, searching for the right words. "I was afraid he'd be even more reckless with his own welfare, trying to somehow make up for failing to keep them alive, or that he'd feel guilty for surviving when they didn't and push to save even more people, punishing himself in the process. I'd seen it before. Hell, I'd lived it."

"That sounds like a legit concern when it comes to our boy, Mac." Bozer nodded, gazing up at Jack.

"There was also the fact he asked to go home." Jack let his head rest against the wall again, his balled fists resting on his knees. "I felt I had to at least try and give him what he wanted even if he was half out of his mind when he asked me for it." Unwanted memories flashed through Jack's mind. He could practically feel the heat of the desert even deep in Helmand tunnel, hear the shelling. He swallowed thickly, focusing on staying present, the cool tile beneath him, the hum of the air conditioning unit, using the sensations to ground him. He chanced another glance at Bozer. "Even then there wasn't much I wouldn't do for him, even if it meant lying to him when I promised I'd never do that."

"Mac really wanted to come home?" Surprise and concern showed on Bozer's face. That and something Jack couldn't quite discern before it vanished.

"What do _you_ think, Boze?" Jack lifted his head, glaring at the other man. Explaining the hells of war to someone who had no concept was damn near impossible. Jack had stopped trying a long time ago. "Do you think he wanted to be there? Shit, dude. Do you think any of us ever wanted to be in that place?" His knuckles grew white as his fist tightened.

"I think I'm glad you were there, whether you wanted to be or not." Bozer's face was as serious and as earnest as Jack had ever seen it. It deflated Jack's fury, bringing a mix of regret and something akin to shame in its place. "I know that might make me selfish, but if you hadn't been there, I'm not sure Mac would have ever come back, at least not the Mac we know now."

Jack smiled bitterly, letting his head fall back against the wall. "Don't forget I'm currently the reason Mac is suffering, that he may die because of a stupid mistake I made years ago." He unclenched his fist, rubbing slowly over the bruised and broken skin on his knuckles.

"Mac is suffering because of Nobel, Jack." Bozer bumped his red Converse against Jack's scuffed boot, succeeding to catch Jack's eyes once more. "You have to get that."

"I get that Nobel pulled the trigger." What Jack also got, that Bozer couldn't quite grasp was that Jack had failed to protect Mac in the first damn place. In the Army the smallest unit possible was a buddy team. It was basically two men charged with the task of watching out for each other. In the Army or not, Jack would always see Mac as the other half of his team, the person he was responsible for keeping alive. "I also know I could have prevented that if I hadn't been too much of a coward to pull my own damn trigger when I had the chance."

"But you're going to remedy that mistake so it will all be good." Bozer actually grinned as if it were a simple task he was proclaiming.

Jack sensed the other man's peace offering, despite his naïve optimism and his smile was more real this time. If Bozer still believed he could fix this, then who was Jack to wallow in self pity? "What happened to you thinking I was just some big selfish jerk?"

Bozer almost looked sheepish. "I might have jumped the gun on the whole selfish part."

Jack raised his brow, feigning offense. "Just not the jerk part."

"Well, you're still you." Bozer shrugged, looking up over his shoulder, when hurried steps and voices rushed past the door.

"That I am." Jack sighed.

Focusing back on Jack, Bozer hesitated a moment before speaking. "I want to call Riley and let her know what's going on with Mac."

"What? No." Jack shook his head at the whiplash-like segue. He sat up straighter. More of his family in the line of fire was not something he could condone. "Just no. The last thing we need is for her to be in danger, too. Mac wouldn't want that."

"Maybe, but what about what Riley might want?" Bozer stood his ground, he swallowed. "Like the chance to say goodbye to Mac if the worst happens."

"Don't even say that." Jack shook his head again, his fist clenching once more. "Nothing is going to happen to Mac. I thought we just covered that."

Bozer took a slow breath, his fingers had found a small hole on the bottom rim of his shoes, worrying the fabric. "I believe you're going to save Mac, but I also can't help thinking of all those times when Mac was hurt through the years and I had no idea." He fought to make a point. "Not only in Afghanistan, like in Helmand when he almost died, but times since then when he was shot or stabbed or thrown off a building and I thought he was living it up on some extended business trip with you and Nikki having a blast." Bozer pinned Jack with a stare. "How did you feel back at the station when you thought you couldn't be there for him when he was sick?"

"Damn it." Jack growled, hitting the ground with his fist. The fresh pain a welcomed if only momentary distraction. He hated it when Bozer had a valid point. Jack pointed a finger at the younger man. "She doesn't come near this island. Is that understood? No sending Hammond's superfast jet to get her from Canada."

"I'll make sure she understands how you feel." Bozer's mouth twitched triumphantly

"Right, like that has ever done any good."Jack rolled his eyes at Bozer.

"Can I ask you something?" Bozer's eyes met Jack's again, obviously emboldened by his recent triumph.

"Can I really stop you?" Jack sighed, rubbing a hand over his temple, sincerely regretting declining the painkillers Dr. Kamaka had offered after he checked him over.

Bozer stared at him for a long moment, seeming to weigh whether he should ask what was on his mind.

"Get it out before you hurt yourself, man." Jack gave a rolling motion with his hands.

Bozer didn't meet Jack's eyes this time, instead focusing on something just past him. "Have you ever thought that living like you and Mac did in Afghanistan in the war for so long is why you two still think all the crazy shit you do is completely normal? That maybe it's why the rest of us are always trying to play catch up and might tend to freak out just a little bit when you two jump out of a crashing plane over the ocean or blow up ten terrorists with some cleaning supplies and a pack of gum?" His gaze briefly brushed over Jack, the mask of calm seriousness and concern wavering, showing the fear behind it. "Or why I might be more than rattled when Mac gets shot in the middle of Los Angeles coming out of our favorite Chinese restaurant by a sniper using some sci-fi biologic bullet who wants to coerce you into some nefarious assassination plot?"

Bozer was watching him now, needing an answer Jack wasn't sure he had. He considered his words, thoughtfully. Simple, pat answers eluded him for the very reason that he tried not to think too much about what the war had done to him, and especially how it might have rewired Mac. No man left battle unscathed or unchanged. In the worst cases they came away broken in ways that couldn't be mended, ways that were sometimes impossible to recognize, far too easy to ignore, until it was too late.

Finally, Jack drew breath and decided to go with some wisdom his grandfather had once shared after Jack's first leave home wasn't what he'd expected. "It's not so easy to slip back into living a normal life, Boze. Not when a man's base-line normal has been so far skewed for so long it no longer registers in the appropriate boundaries with the rest of civilization."

Jack thought about the time he and Mac had spent in Afghanistan, how there was so much death and destruction there that a man couldn't quite comprehend it all. How a man either learned to shove the danger aside and kept going as if the chaos around you was typical, or he was swallowed up by his own fear ."I guess maybe me and Mac feel more comfortable when things are a little out of the ordinary, maybe even bordering on bedlam, than we do when things are in a peaceful state." He flashed the other man a serious glance, wanting to make sure Bozer didn't misinterpret what he was saying, that he might be implying something was wrong with him or especially Mac. "It's who we are. Our normal. But you're right, sometimes we might take for granted that you and the other people we love are more acquainted with the conventional way of doing things and that we scare the hell out of you."

"That actually makes sense." Bozer said considerately.

"Don't' sound so surprised. I actually do have my moments. Just ask Mac." Jack carefully made it to standing, offering the other man a hand up. Bozer gripped Jack's outstretched hand and let him help pull him up, an involuntary groan escaping through Jack's clenched jaw in the process as his abused side registered the strain.

"Are _you_ okay?" Fresh worry registered on Bozer's face and Jack had to take a quick step back to avoid the younger man invading his personal space once more. He'd be lucky if the kid didn't try and give him a full on hug.

"Peachy." Jack straightened, one hand lightly pressed against his side, his face grim with discomfort. "I need to call Hammond, tell him we have to up the timeline for the meet as in first thing in the morning."

"Hammond's still here," Bozer explained. "He went to check on McGarrett who was having his hand stitched up in another room.

"Good. With everything like it is right now, I'm not sure Mac has that much time." Surely there was a space Jack could pull together an impromptu debriefing so they could get their next step in place. "I want you to get a hold of Jerry. Have him reach out to the others. Everyone needs to come to us." Jack didn't want to leave Mac sooner than necessary.

"I'll do it." Bozer glanced at him. "But can I ask you one more thing?"

"As long as it's not deep or metaphorical or makes my head hurt anymore than it already does." Jack narrowed his gaze menacingly. "Then go ahead. Shoot."

Bozer's mouth twitched. "Who the hell is that on your shirt?"

Instead of once more defending his wardrobe, Jack let a very simple, and completely translatable hand gesture stand for his reply.

RCJ

Mac hadn't planned on dozing off. He'd managed to stay awake through the initial scans and tests Dr. Kamaka had ordered through sheer stubbornness and a driving need to stay alert. Once some clarity finally overcame the residual panic that had taken hold of Mac's faculties after the latest reaction to the toxin and he'd made it through the measures without losing it, he'd promised himself he'd be awake, at least long enough to talk to Jack, to set things straight with his partner once and for all and to convince him to get Mac out of there. But the late hour combined with the toll his body had taken had obviously worked against his valiant efforts. Mac awoke to find himself not in radiology but in an empty, dimly lit hospital room.

He blinked blearily, feeling completely disorientated for a moment. When his vision finally cleared he glanced to the IV in his arm, the needle's uncomfortable pinch drawing his primary attention before he took in the numerous machines monitoring his condition. Mac didn't need the increased beeping of the one gauging his heart rate to understand that he was suddenly afraid. The panic adding to his disorientation.

It was hard to admit, considering he tended to face death, disaster and the unknown on a daily basis, but finding himself alone in a mostly dark, unfamiliar space with only the lingering fear from what had transpired before had him feeling unnaturally vulnerable. He shivered, unconsciously drawing the blanket a little higher. His fever probably wasn't helping, nor was the fact his head felt a bit like someone had used it for batting practice.

Mac pushed himself up in the bed, ignoring the wave of nausea, his blurry gaze slowly trying to assess his surroundings. He swallowed hard, his throat raw and hurting. Distantly he could remember that he might have screamed earlier. The most obvious fact, taunting and mocking Mac was that Jack was nowhere to be found. Bozer was missing as well. Mac might have been a little bleary on all that had transpired after the toxin did its latest number on Mac's brain but he was certain Jack had promised him he'd be waiting for him when Mac was finished with the doctor's tests. Jack was not one to break promises.

Worst case scenarios bounded in like unwanted, unruly visitors and Mac felt his heart rate picking up even more speed. He searched for a clock, rubbing his eyes when the numbers were too damn blurry to make out. The shades were drawn on the windows but it appeared to still be dark out, which meant that Mac hadn't been out for very long, or he'd missed an entire day. Mac's internal clock which was usually trustworthy told him it couldn't have been more than an hour at the most, but he worried the drug might have also tampered with his sense of time.

Mac managed to slip the oxygen cannula from his face, clumsily lowering the railing on his bed as he fought through a moment of dizziness and nausea to get his legs over the side. He sat there for a moment, blinking his vision back into focus. Mac frowned at the fact his shoes were gone, and he was now wearing a medical gown and not his jeans. The lack of a wardrobe wouldn't deter him from searching for his partner. Military life had pretty much diminished any modesty Mac might have cultivated as a skinny insecure teen. However he wasn't prepared for the fact his body might not have been as willing and able to cooperate with his need for answers. Mac had no more than set his feet on the floor and attempted to transfer weight to them when the miscalculation became very clear. He tried to stop his fall by reaching for the IV pole near him, but only managed to bring the rolling structure down with him garnering a loud clang.

The racket of the crash was more painful to Mac's sensitive ears than the awkward landing was to his body. For a moment he feared he'd brought another pain-filled episode on himself when a sharp twinge echoed through his head, causing his breath to catch, his eyes to automatically squeeze shut.

"Mac!" Jack's shout didn't help matters. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Mac recoiled slightly at his partner's decibel level although his relief at having the man present forced him to open his eyes, blinking owlishly up at Jack who was now hovering above him.

"Coming to find you." Mac's answer had Jack's face twisting into a grimace. He shook his head as he reached out to carefully help Mac up. "You said you'd be here…" Mac hoped he didn't sound quite as childish as he felt. He wasn't ready for the shift in altitude and his weak knees buckled again as Jack took most of his weight before easing him back onto the bed.

"Your nurse just texted Bozer," Jack explained as he tried to untangle the IV that had gratefully not been pulled free during Mac's attempt at taking matters into his own hands. "They only brought you up here, bud."

"I'm sorry," Mac licked his dry lips. His mouth felt like he'd swallowed sand. "I…" He blinked, feeling drained of what little energy he'd managed now that Jack was here and the panic had temporarily been beaten back.

"It's okay, kid." Jack cut him off, meeting his gaze for the first time. "None of this is on you. Alright? Just try and not give me any more scares today. I don't think my heart can handle it at this point." He ran a hand over his hair, grabbing for the remote for the bed.

"Where were you?" Mac was grateful when Jack raised the bed so he could finally lean back but still remain upright although he didn't' appreciate the oxygen that Jack was insistent on replacing. Jack steered Mac's hand away when he tried to tug at the uncomfortable tubing and Mac let out a defeated sigh. If Mac felt exhausted, Jack looked the part. The bruises on his face were more vivid, highlighting the dark circles beneath his eyes. The slight beard from lack of a shower and shave reminded Mac of the days when they were in Afghanistan, when sometimes the closest thing they came to cleaning up was sharing a pack of baby wipes "I was worried you'd gone and done something stupid."

"Hammond has commandeered the Chief of Staff's cushy office, set up a home base. We were talking about our next move," Jack's eyes moved over the variety of monitors in the room as he explained. Mac shivered, burying deeper under the blanket that was once more placed over him. Frowning his partner pressed his hand against Mac's forehead. "You're still burning up, kid."

"Which is?" For a second Mac considered leaning into Jack's cool touch but instead he slightly moved his head, effectively dislodging his partner's hand. The last thing he needed was to appear in need of comfort, especially if he planned on being a part of the upcoming plan the others were hatching.

"Which is what?" Jack tilted his head, studying Mac with a concerned frown and Mac wondered not for the first time if he really looked as bad as the worry in Jack's eyes suggested.

"Your next move, Jack." Mac caught his partner's wrist, when it was obvious Jack wanted to pace. Wincing slightly when the movement pulled at his bullet wound. "Talk to me."

"Nothing you need to worry about right now." Jack said evasively. He used his free hand to press the call button hanging at the top of his bed. When a nurse responded Jack said, "Leah, Mac's awake if you want to let Dr. Kamaka know."

"You're on a first name basis with the nurses now?" Mac coughed lightly, raising a brow at his partner, fighting off a wince when he tried to shift higher in the bed.

"I told you I'd make sure you got the prettiest ones." Jack flashed him a quick grin though Mac could tell it was more for his benefit than a real one."I'm sorry the room doesn't have a great view but I managed to keep you out of the ICU."

"Thanks for that." Mac blinked, watching Jack as he glanced around the room before settling his gaze back on him. He picked up at his partner's restlessness, the need to do something productive. "I hate all the glass walls."

"I hear you."Jack gave Mac a more thorough study than he had their surroundings, crossing and uncrossing his arms over his chest. "How you doing, brother? Really. Is your head still hurting?"

"Some, sort of like a really bad hangover," Mac confessed, knowing there was no use in trying to put on an act. "But nothing like before. I'm just tired." If he liked it or not, the fever was slowly but surely becoming a problem. He began to feel slightly detached from the situation, and the pull of sleep was incredibly inviting.

"So the tests weren't as bad as you thought?" Jack surprised Mac by reaching up and brushing a few strands of hair out of his face before settling himself on the edge of the bed.

"About like usual," Mac didn't even bother to look offended at the little-brother-like treatment, actually glad that Jack seemed to settle some. His agitation was making Mac itchy, the recent scare obviously wearing on both their resistances. He forced a half smile, opting to take a page out of his partner's typical book. "Not quite as sadistic since Sally wasn't gloating over me."

Jack smirked at Mac's mock shiver at the mention of Phoenix's head nurse in medical. "You know I bet we could get Patty to fly the evil elf over here to be in charge of your care…"

"I would never forgive you." It felt good to have a moment of normalcy and Mac wished not for the first time that this was one of their typical missions, instead of the completely convoluted mess they were facing.

"And here everybody thinks you're the guy who won't hold a grudge."

"There are some sins a man can't get past." Despite the joking tone, Mac recognized the hurt that flashed through his partner's eyes, sensing their temporary reprieve come to an end. He was quick to add, "But when it comes to family, there's always some wiggle room."

"I'm sorry, brother." Jack straightened the thin sheet he'd pulled over Mac, demonstrating his need once more to be doing something, anything constructive. "Really sorry."

"Hey, it's not like Sally is already on the way here." Mac continued to play coy, not sure if his defenses or Jack's were up to the conversation he'd wanted so desperately to have earlier. It didn't seem so important now, in light of the fact Jack was alive and Mac was determined not to be put on the sidelines again. "Is she?"

"You know what I'm talking about, dude." Jack removed his hand from where it had briefly rested on Mac's arm, obviously willing to take the chance on delving into emotional territory.

Mac looked up at him, figuring he might as well follow his partner's lead. "Are you sorry you did it, or sorry I found out?"

"Both I guess. I'm not sorry I made the deal if that's what you're asking," Jack clarified. "I do wish Hammond might have had a little more tact with letting that particular cat out of the bag. His timing always sucked."

"You could have told me yourself, spared us all that Jerry Springer moment." It wasn't like there hadn't been opportunity. Mac and Jack had spent hours on stakeouts, hunkered down monitoring situations across the world. Jack was never short on words or stories.

"You don't know how many times I came close, kid. Each time I'd go on a mission and make it back alive I'd think about coming clean, but then I'd talk myself out of it. Before I knew it, five years had gone by and I only had a couple left. There didn't seem a point to hurt you, because I knew it would." Jack glanced away. "Then the whole thing with Nikki happened and I couldn't bring myself to give you one more reason to doubt someone you trusted, and honestly, seeing how you felt about her afterwards, it scared me. I ain't going to lie. I was afraid I might lose you."

"Nikki's deal was nothing like yours." Mac waited for Jack to look at him once more. "It wasn't self-serving. In fact, if Iraq was one of the first ones on your contract, which I'm guessing it was considering how Hammond hid it from me and the rest of the team at the time, your payoff was nowhere near as sweet as hers."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Jack held Mac's gaze. "Five million dollars sounds nice, but what I got out of my deal was a hell of a lot more valuable."

"Thank you." They were simple words, especially in light of the complicated feelings Mac had about what Jack had done. There were questions he wanted answered about the missions, specifics his detail oriented mind demanded in place of vague conclusions he'd drawn for himself since finding out about the grand, albeit, well-meaning deception. But now was not the time. After all this was over, Mac and Jack would take some time at Mac's grandfather's cabin, where only the fish and beer would offer distractions from the whole story. Jack might be good at diversion and a master of half-truths, but if Mac asked him something straight out, he was a shitty liar.

"How about we save any gratitude on your part until you're no longer in this damn hospital bed suffering because of something I did."

"No matter what happens, this isn't your fault." Mac reached out and grabbed Jack's wrist when Jack started to get off the bed. Mac could see the building denial, his partner's refusal to admit the truth about the situation Nobel, and only Nobel, had put them in. "That's what you told me about Pena, what you told me when I was trying to save you from that bomb that The Ghost planted. I'm guessing you meant what you said."

"You know I did." Jack stayed where he was, his voice sharp. "I'd have never blamed you, not even for a second. Neither would have Pena."

Mac tried not to think about his former training officer, he especially worked hard at blocking the images of Jack being blown apart, a picture that was all too fresh considering the nightmare he'd had only hours before back at Five-0 and the experience he'd gone through watching the house Jack was in be obliterated by Nobel's crude bomb.

"You believe that, right?" Jack caught his eye.

Mac nodded. "I'll try if you try to work on not blaming yourself for what's happening to me."

"How about you check in on my progress after you're no longer under attack by one bad ass toxin." Jack made a fist and knocked it lightly against Mac's. "Deal?"

"Deal," Mac conceded, knowing his partner well enough to know it was as much progress as he was going to make when he wasn't even capable of pulling off a decent fist bump. He switched gears, noting the bruises on Jack's knuckles along with a decent nick. It was nothing in the grand scheme of knife wounds and concussions but Mac was desperate to gain some ground. "What happened to your hand?"

"It's nothing," Jack tried pulling the hand in question back towards his lap, going so far as to cover it with his other.

"It looks like something." Mac studied the older agent, blinking when his vision blurred once more. "I hope you didn't piss off any of the medical staff. These people have needles and other sharp instruments they may want to use on me."

"Don't' worry, kid. I might have had a go around with a particularly aggravating wall, but we worked it out." Jack uncovered his hand, bending and flexing his fingers.

"I guess I should just be glad you didn't do that on Bozer's face." Mac raised a brow, crossing his arms to stay warm. "You didn't, right?"

"Nah, me and Bozer are good." Jack's mouth tugged at a smile. "He's actually working on something with Jerry, but he'll be around here soon."

Jack had no more gotten the words out than the door to Mac's room swung open and he grinned at Mac. "In fact, that might be him."

"Afraid not." Mac had a line of view of the door over Jack's shoulder and recognized Dr. Kamaka and one of the nurses from before. She was pushing a cart holding a computer tablet as well as several other instruments. Mac instinctively drew closer to Jack, all the while silently berating himself for the fear reflex.

"It's good to see you awake, Mac." Dr. Kamaka came around the other side of the bed, leaving Jack where he was.

"Without the use of some heavy drugs, it's not like him to stay out for long in a fine establishment such as this, Doc." Jack glanced at Mac, staying put as if he could hear his partner's internal dialogue of 'don't you dare leave'. He gave a wink. "In fact, some have had to resort to restraints just to keep him in his bed."

"I don't think we'll be needing those considering Mac's condition isn't exactly currently one that is optimal for plotting an escape." The doctor picked up the tablet and his gaze went from the screen to Mac and then back.

"But…" Mac started to interject that he wanted to debate that assessment but Jack cut him off.

"Don't underestimate my partner." Jack watched the nurse as she went about checking the monitors, noting the readouts on her own computerized chart. "I've seen him rig up an oxygen tank to an electric wheelchair and stage one hell of a break out."

"Don't listen to Jack." Mac told Kamaka as he kept his eyes on the doctor, willing his body to cooperate, to not show how poorly he was feeling. He tried to widen his eyes and look alert and more with it than he felt. "He's been known to exaggerate my exploits and he'd also have me in the hospital ER for the common cold if I didn't' keep his worrying nature under control."

"I just read a report from an extremely thorough nurse from your Phoenix Foundation that hints at the fact Agent Dalton might not be pulling my leg." Kamaka glanced at Mac as he returned the tablet to the cart and pulled the dreaded pen light from his pocket. "And he was also right about your scans. They were impressive."

"Sally," Mac breathed, suppressing another shiver. He glared at Jack who at least had the good graces to hide his laugh behind a cough.

"Speaking of the tests," Jack cleared his throat, regaining his composure. Mac tensed when the doctor went to inspect each of his eyes, he felt Jack's fingers brush against his wrist and Mac tried to stay still and endure the torture. "How's my boy doing?"

"The scans didn't reveal anything we didn't suspect from the information we already collected thanks to your labs at Phoenix and the one from the War College in Washington." Kamaka gave Mac a sympathetic smile when he finally drew back and put his pen light away. "You have some of the brightest minds in the field trying to decipher this toxin, young man. I'm impressed by your friends in high places, but I'm afraid there isn't much we can add to that."

"So I can go?" Mac asked hopefully, albeit still a bit breathless.

"What? No." Jack was quick to intercede. He looked from Mac to Kamaka, A worried frown on his face. "You're telling me there's nothing you can do about the symptoms? What if he has another episode like the last one?"

"That's indeed possible, and honestly quite likely, only I'm afraid the intensity as well as the frequency will only increase the longer the toxin stays in his system," the doctor answered seriously. Mac felt some of the fight leave him at the mere thought of enduring another round of pain like he'd suffered before. He swallowed hard, ignoring the new wave of nausea that seemed to always be in the background. He glanced at Jack, who looked more stricken than Mac felt.

"Then what good is all your machines and monitors if you can't even help him." Jack snapped frustrated, shoving a hand through his hair, as he stared down Kamaka.

"I didn't say we couldn't help." Kamaka sat on a rolling stool he'd pulled from the corner and rolled it up to the bed so he could address both men, his face remaining serious. "I know it's been explained to you by my colleague Dr. Kunha that using any drugs, including antipyretics to bring down Mac's fever or opiates to control his pain is not advisable at this point."

"We understand that," Mac answered quickly, agreeing with the assessment.

"We don't like it," Jack interjected, crossing his arms over his chest. "I want to hear what you _can_ do."

"We can keep Mac hydrated and on oxygen as his breathing becomes more compromised, which it will." Dr. Kamaka looked apologetic. "Your body has technically been invaded by a synthetic virus. It's causing mass chaos in several systems including your immune and endocrine systems. Messages are misfiring sending chemicals into your brain that shouldn't be there. It's resulting in over activity in synapses in integral areas, Mac." Kamaka touched his finger to several points on his own head, his eyes never leaving Mac's. "Places that control things like pain reception, vision, and respiratory functions. It's also why your fever is out of control as its also messing with the hypothalamus which controls body temperature. If the influx of information continues and your body tries to fight off the invasion and refigure, everything will begin to shut down."

Jack's dark look remained on the doctor, his brows drawing together. "Thanks for that very specific doom and gloom blow by blow, Doc, which I _have_ already endured from your colleague Dr. Kunha, but I'd much rather hear how you're going to help my partner's brain from frying until I can get the damn antidote."

"Jack," Mac said slowly, narrowing his gaze at his partner.

"We're not completely helpless in fighting the symptomology, Agent Dalton." Dr. Kamaka didn't seem phased by Jack's outburst. He kept his gaze on Mac. "We can keep you hydrated as I said, use some cooling techniques if your core body temperature climbs much higher, which may work two fold in your favor as it might actually lower your blood pressure and slow the metabolism of the toxin."

"I take it the lemon grass oil isn't going to cut it?" Mac gave a weak, albeit hopeful smile.

"Natural remedies are wonderful against typical fevers, in fact, fevers themselves aren't usually half as nefarious as people think." Kamaka's gaze shifted from Mac to Jack before going back. "They actually can be beneficial, but I was thinking external cooling techniques such as hyperthermia blankets and ice packs if yours climbs much higher. There is always extracorporeal blood cooling but I would rather stick with the least invasive measures."

"I would also rather you keep all my partner's blood on the _inside_ of his body as I consider that one of my priority missions." Jack folded his arms over his chest giving the doctor what Mac realized was his Delta Commander 'this sounds like a suggestion but you better damn well take it as an order' kind of glower.

"How about we take Mac's treatment one crisis at a time," Kamaka suggested. Mac noted that the doctor was nonplussed by Jack's threatening stance and chalked it up to the man working at an Army hospital and having dealt with Jack's type before. "Right now, I'm going to have Leah start with some convective measures, using fans and an increase in the air conditioning." He patted Mac's leg as he stood, his attention going to Jack. "You may want to consider a jacket if you're planning on staying the night, Agent Dalton. It will keep you warm and keep your shirt from further frightening my staff."

Mac couldn't prevent the snicker that Jack's incredulous look elicited. Even if it made his head hurt more, it was worth it.

"I hope we're not being charged extra for the bad bedside humor, Doc," Jack called after Kamaka who'd made a perfectly timed exit, taking his attending nurse with him.

"They don't get that the alternative was much worse," Mac offered when Jack refocused on him, rubbing two fingers over his aching forehead. "At least I respect your sacrifice."

"Yeah, well, it wouldn't be the first time you were the only one on my side." Jack reclaimed his seat on the edge of Mac's bed. He glanced down at Kamakeona's smiling face. "Maybe I should hit the gift shop and grab one of those flowered Magnum P.I. monstrosities before anyone else gives me grief."

"Or you could go to McGarrett's place, take a real shower, borrow something not NAVY from him and get some sleep before tomorrow's mission." Mac wasn't big on Jack leaving but he understood his partner hadn't had any rest since Nobel shot him back in Los Angeles. "A mission you still haven't filled me in on."

"You trying to get rid of me?" Jack's brow furrowed as his eyes found Mac's once more. He of course dodged the explanation of the mission. "What happened to you not wanting me to go? You're starting to sound as nit-picky as some of the women I've dated lately." One brow hiked up.

"I'm not being capricious, I just…" Mac started.

"That's good, because I have no idea what that means," Jack interrupted, holding a hand up when Mac opened his mouth to continue. "I do know that I don't need a shave, shower and a fancy shirt to fire a gun. I've pulled a trigger without sleep and proper hygiene countless times over. So, I'm already set for tomorrow. You're stuck with me." Jack made his point by getting up and dragging the lone chair in the room closer to Mac's bed before plopping himself in it. "At least until sunrise."

"So the plan is for you to kill Miguel Quesan during the fake exchange?" Mac couldn't deny the wash of relief that his partner's presence brought but the mention of Jack shooting people brought a bigger wave of anxiety and dread. "You can't just kill the man, even if he is a war criminal."

"Oh, I can. Considering you understand my skillset better than anyone, you know that, bud." Jack kicked his feet up on the bottom rail of Mac's bed, making himself comfortable. "And I will if that's what it takes. Something you should also understand considering you know _me_ better than anyone."

"Can and should are two entirely different things and you know it. Killing him doesn't guarantee Nobel will play fair." Mac did know Jack better than anyone, realized on some level that trying to talk him out of going through with whatever Nobel wanted was going to be impossible, especially when they'd just sat through the doctor's play by play of Mac's grave condition. But Jack also understood Mac better than anyone, which meant he'd know Mac couldn't at least try and stop him from going to the extreme, from doing something that might save Mac but would inevitably hurt Jack in the end. Just like his deal to get Mac out of Afghanistan. "You might not get the antidote."

"I will get the antidote." There was no room for disagreement in Jack's tone. "Hopefully, with Bozer's help and McGarrett's team running interference, I won't have to take out Quesan which will spare me some time in the Brigg. He'll be the one spending the rest of his years in a prison where he belongs." Jack leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as his determined eyes found Mac's. "But don't ask me to show that bastard Jonas the same mercy. I'm going to finish Nobel for even thinking he could touch my family. He's going to pay for what he did to you."

"And what if he has the same thing in mind for you, Jack?" Mac voiced his biggest fear, the one that echoed from the nightmare he'd had earlier about The Ghost, the one that had nearly been realized when he'd watched Nobel's bomb consume the house Jack had been in. "What if shooting me, the poison, all of it was just the beginning of what he has planned to get revenge on you?"

"I'm not going into this alone, Mac." Jack tried to look reassuring, briefly squeezing his partner's arm. "I'll have back-up."

"I won't be there," Mac pointed out, slowly accepting that he wasn't going to make it out of bed on his own, much less back to Five-0 headquarters. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, his vision blurring again.

"I know and that sucks because you know there is no one else I'd rather have watching my back." Jack glanced at the door and then back to Mac. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the rail of Mac's bed. "But I promise I won't leave you in the dark. Not again. It's not the same, but I'm going to make sure you're practically sitting on my shoulder the whole time."

"Really?" Mac's mouth twitched, wondering at what unique plan Jack could have possibly devised to pull off what he was proposing. "And will I be playing the part of the devil or the angel in this little scenario?"

Jack snorted, leaning back in the seat once more. "That's the million dollar question but my money is on the first one, because despite what dear old Nana Beth thinks of her precious Angus I ain't never seen a halo or a set of wings anywhere on you, brother."

Mac knew Jack had indeed witnessed quite the opposite. In fact, Jack might have been the only person Mac loved that had seen the other side of the mild-mannered, cool and collected intellectual that many believed him to be. It was a side very different than the part of Mac which was adamant about the preservation of life, the one devoted to his humanity. It was a facet of himself Mac discovered in the desert of all places. Mac may have joined the Army with the most honorable of intentions, believing whole heartedly that there were things worth dying for, but if combat had taught him anything about himself it was a very different lesson-the flip-side of the coin. War had showed Mac that there were also people worth killing for, and that if pushed come to shove, he was as capable as his partner at that particular skill set. If Jonas thought he and his role model Alfred Nobel were the only ones that could use science as a weapon, Angus MacGyver was the perfect person to prove him wrong.

To be continued…

A/A/N: Dear readers, the next chapter may be a little longer in coming as I will be going on a trip for work and will not be able to squeeze in my daily writing for the next week or so. Hopefully though, I'll come back with some good material as New Orleans always inspires me. Thank you so much for your patience!


	12. Chapter 12

Guard Your Heart

By: Ridley James

A/N: This chapter isn't quite as long as usual, but the timing and the events coming up in the story seemed to demand a bit of a filler part. I hope you have not given up on this story as I know it has become a bit drawn out. Thanks always to my beta Mary, who despite juggling many balls, had time to work on this part to make it so much better. Forgive any medical inaccuracies as I have of course stretched some facts slightly to make things work. As always, your reviews are so appreciated and quickly devoured. Enjoy!

RCJ

"You and Jack are the only two people I know who could go to a tropical paradise and end up in a situation where hypothermia is a real possibility." Riley smiled at Mac from the computer screen, taking some of the sting from her valid, yet unnecessary point. Mac blinked, clearing his blurry sight. He could see the flowered wall-paper behind her, and was tempted to make fun of the tee-shirt she was wearing which he was pretty sure had a kitten dressed as an astronaut on it and was so 'un-Riley' that it begged to be mentioned. He decided to give her a break considering the scare they'd given her last night when Bozer had finally come clean with what had transpired since she'd left to visit her mother. Despite the teasing smile on Riley's face he still could see tight lines of worry around her eyes.

"There's no real chance for hypothermia, you know. It's just uncomfortably cool." Despite the fact Mac's teeth were practically chattering, he made an effort to look warm just to assure her. He even managed to shift his pained grimace to what he hoped was a decent grin, a feat made easier by the fact that a team of doctors had decided a light treatment of pain meds was more beneficial than any harm it might cause by interfering with the toxin. Mac was pretty sure Jack's full blown temper tantrum had been just as much an impetus for the unanimous decision as was Mac's latest torturous episode in the wee hours of the morning. Mac didn't remember much of it except the more blatantly embarrassing parts like screaming and Jack rocking him like a baby. Mac really hoped that last part was a very bad dream, or maybe a hallucination from his high fever. He cleared his still aching throat. "At any rate, we at least we keep things exciting."

"I don't know about everyone else excluding the two adrenaline junkies themselves, but I could do with some dull for a change." Bozer harrumphed from his position on the edge of Mac's bed where he was huddled in a puffy coat with a blanket over his legs. Mac wasn't even sure where one found a winter coat on the islands, but it appeared several sizes too big for Bozer, almost tent-like, so Mac imagined it might have belonged to Jerry. Bozer was exaggerating the chill in the room. Mac was only dressed in a thin hospital gown and was the one with the fever, yet Bozer seemed to be the only person in jeopardy of freezing to death. Mac ran a hand over his eyes, cursing his swimming vision. The headache was dulled but not gone, making thinking so much harder.

"I'm with Bozer." Riley's face disappeared from the screen for a moment and when she reappeared she was holding another laptop, and a Yeti cup which she placed on the bedside table beside her. Mac didn't miss the pink lampshade, or the Hello-Kitty alarm clock. "A girl can't even get a vacation in without you guys finding trouble."

"Blame Jack," Bozer said, his hands burying deeper inside the coat's pockets. "Mac and I were all up for some nice down time at the beach. I even had a picnic basket packed."

"Don't blame Jack," Mac countered, coughing slightly when his raised voice was too much for the rawness of his abused throat. He nudged his roommate in the ribs, wincing when the move not only pinched at the IV in his hand but tugged at the stitches in his shoulder. He was pretty sure Bozer didn't even feel a thing through all the down padding. Still, Mac wasn't willing to let Bozer throw Jack under the bus, not when his partner wasn't there to defend himself, especially with the all too recent memory of Jack's distraught features as he left Mac's room a few hours before. When he looked back to Riley her fingers were flying across the keyboard of her second rig. "This is _not_ his fault." Mac emphasized softly.

"Maybe not, but I'm holding him responsible for my late entry into the game." Riley flashed a glower in Mac's direction before returning to whatever she was doing on the other computer. "He should have called me as soon as you were shot. In fact, I'm pretty pissed at all of you for leaving me out of this."

"Hey, _I_ wanted to tell you." Bozer leaned toward the screen so his entire face filled the camera. He batted his eyelashes dramatically. "Do those words sound familiar, Ms Davis? Like from the conversation we had after Murdock shot up my kitchen and destroyed the throne of lies I didn't even realize I was sitting on?"

"Whatever," Riley ignored Bozer. "I've almost got the lock on the second and third satellite that your friend Jerry hasn't accessed. Between the two of us we should be able to triangulate a signal to you so that you can keep a bird's eye view on the exchange, Mac, right from your comfy subarctic location." She looked up once more, her concerned gaze moving over Mac.

"What about the comms? Can you get me a feed on those?" Mac reached up and tugged at the oxygen cannula that was driving him crazy, realizing he was still trying to hold what constituted for a smile. The dull ache of pain reverberating through his skull despite the Tramadol buffer and the slightly detached feeling produced by the fever refocused his priorities. He hated feeling weak and especially useless. Mac wanted to be able to hear what was going on but didn't want to run the risk of Jonas or his still unknown partner being able to intercept their transmission.

"I think we've got that one covered. Jerry gave me the frequency and encryption Five-0 uses. I have alerts in place in case someone tries to piggy back the channel I'm going to link to your comm." Riley met Mac's glassy gaze. Her eyes giving him another intense once over. "Are you sure you're up to this, Mac. You don't look so great."

"I'm going to be a part of this exchange one way or another, Riley." Mac finally gave in and crossed his arms over his chest to preserve some warmth. He would have tried for reassuring once more but was simply too exhausted from faking it with Jack. His partner had been a hard sale, especially after what Mac had endured just a few hours before dawn. It was by far the worst in the series, Mac's fever pushing ever closer to the 104 mark which had warranted the external cooling measures now making him shiver. Convincing Jack he was still well enough to join in on the plan had been its own kind of torture.

"That's what I guessed you would say." She gave a put upon sigh, but added a slight smirk for his benefit. She picked up her Yeti mug and took a drink. "Give me thirty minutes, tops. I've got to explain to my mom why we aren't going ice skating and discuss some last minute tweaks with Jerry and then I'll be back with you guys."

"Ice skating?" Bozer frowned, again leaning closer to the screen, eyes narrowing. "Who are you and what have you done with our Riley?" Bozer pointed at his upper lip. "Whoever you are, you've got a strawberry milk mustache going on."

"It's not strawberry milk!" Riley said indignantly, flashing Bozer a dark look. Mac smiled when she quickly wiped at her face. "It's a strawberry smoothie. My mom is big on not missing breakfast."

"Riley, call me on my cell as soon as you have something," Mac cut in to the argument he could see building. He shifted his weight slightly, suppressing a groan. Despite the cool air and his shivering, he felt beads of sweat running down his temple. "I'll be flying solo here for a while."

"Where's Bozer going?" She asked with a raised brow, a slight frown on her face.

"I'm actually headed out to work on my part of the top secret mission with Dr. Kunha. The General's taking us to the DEA headquarters himself." Bozer piped up proudly, looking extremely pleased with himself. Mac noticed he'd added what looked like an ushanka-hat Russian soldiers wore in the war to his winter ensemble and Mac wondered if Jerry collected strange historical memorabilia like he did the conspiracy theories that Bozer had told Mac about. "It seems my expert talents are required."

"Oh yeah? They need someone to cook up some pastrami for them?" Riley asked, keeping her face completely serious. "Maybe some French toast?"

"Ha Ha." Bozer rolled his eyes. "We'll see who's laughing when I prepare one of the island's secret Spam delicacies when we're back home and Princess Riley and her astronaut kitten friend aren't invited to the feast."

Mac rolled his eyes at his roommate's antics and Riley's reply which was a one-fingered hand signal that was much more in line with her typical character. "Spam? Seriously?" He asked Bozer once he'd closed the laptop after Riley cut her connection without further comment. Mac leaned back against the pillow trying to ignore the almost overwhelming need to close his eyes.

"I was doubtful at first, too, my friend, but that corndog I had yesterday was seriously lit."

"Please don't talk about food." Mac pushed the computer towards Bozer with a low groan. He watched his roommate's face color with concern as he sat the laptop on the table near Mac's breakfast tray that had not been touched.

"How you doing, man?" Bozer eased in to eye him critically, and Mac regretted showing any weakness as he saw the mother hen feathers start to emerge. He tried to find a comfortable position on the bed, one preferably that put him out of reach of the circulating fan, and out of Bozer's direct line of sight but accepted defeat along with the inevitable cold. "You told the nurse you'd at least try to drink something. Should I …" Bozer continued, oblivious to Mac's body language cues that he should back off.

"Aren't you supposed to be meeting Hammond?" Mac cut in, trying his best to keep from shivering again, before the other man offered to fluff Mac's pillow or worse, share body heat. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to stay focused.

"Can anyone join this slumber party or does a guy need to be up on his hair braiding and toe nail polishing skills?" Hammond asked from the doorway of Mac's room as if the mere mention of his name had somehow conjured the general. Curie appeared from behind him, sauntering into the room as if she was used to going on frequent hospital visits.

Mac was grateful for the interruption despite the former Delta commander's teasing. "Are you here to get Bozer? He's ready for your assignment."

Bozer practically sprung from the bed, firing off a haphazard salute. "Wilt Bozer reporting for duty, Sir."

"How about you give us a minute, Dr. Zhivago?" Hammond jerked his thumb towards the door, a brow raised. "Dr. Kunha wants you down in the morgue. I'll meet you both out back at the ambulance bay in ten. See that you're dressed like a normal person before I get there."

"Did you say morgue?" Bozer's eyes bulged from beneath the brim of the fur-lined hat.

"You got a fresh corpse in your pocket, son?" Hammond crossed his arms over his chest, his shoulder half leaning against the doorframe.

"Uh, no?" Bozer glanced at Mac and Mac almost felt bad for his roommate. Almost.

"Then I suggest you get your ass moving and secure us one. I had Landry send you the specs on your phone. You'll be the better gauge of facial structure and skull size."

"Okay." Bozer gave another not so enthusiastic salute which Hammond ignored before his gaze once more found Mac's. The uncertainty from earlier had changed to concern again. "Can I get you anything before I go?"

"You've already got me what I needed." Mac glanced to the laptop that would keep him connected to Jack and the team. "Really, Boze. I'm good."

"Then I'll be back after I've helped save the day." Bozer gave the general a nod before heading out the door still dressed as if his mission lay in the wilds of a Russian winter landscape instead of down town Oahu.

"Jack tells me Bozer can make a mask and set a scene that would make the top make-up artists and prop guys in Hollywood jealous, but I have to tell you, Shep, that kid is weird even by civilian standards." The general stepped into the room, eyeing the vast array of machines monitoring his condition, and the fans which had been a recent addition. Mac noted he was dressed in cargo pants, a black t-shirt and combat boots. It was a uniform he hadn't seen the older man wear since their time in Afghanistan.

"Bozer means well." Mac relaxed his guard, not needing to keep pretenses in front of Hammond, who had never been much of a coddler. Jack used to say a man pretty much had to be missing a body part or holding one of his own organs in his bare hands to wring an ounce of concern out of Hard-nosed Hammer. Mac knew the sentiment was extremely exaggerated but was glad he didn't' have to worry about Hammond harping on how Mac was feeling. He narrowed his blurring gaze at the general, once again crossing his arms over his chest when he felt the shivering increase. "And he's my best friend, so tread easy."

"Here I thought Jack was your best friend." The general sat on the doctor's stool and rolled it close to Mac's bed, Curie followed close beside him. "I hope you broke the truth to our boy gently." He absently ran a hand over the dog's fur.

Mac gave a slight frown, unable to stop himself from picking at the tape holding his IV in place. He cleared his throat again, blinking when the tape wavered out of focus for a moment. "A guy can have two best friends."

"Or if he's smart, he could just get himself a nice dog." Hammond grinned as Curie put her big paws on Mac's mattress and let out a loud whine. "Much more reliable than us humans, without all the annoying eccentricities."

"There's always fleas." Mac let the tape rest and reached out a hand to lay on the big dog's head, Curie leaning into his touch. She licked his fingers, her tongue almost hot against his clammy skin. Neither he nor Hammond acknowledged the trembling in his hand.

"I'll have you know Curie is cleaner and better groomed than most of the men we served with back in the desert." Hammond ran a hand down the dog's lean back over her flank. "She has better dental hygiene to boot."

Mac's mouth twitched as Curie's tongue lolled to the side as if she understood what her master was saying. With another whine and a glance at Hammond who gave a 'go see' command, she carefully climbed onto the bed, stretching her body the length of Mac's. The added heat felt like heaven to Mac.

"She senses you're in pain," Hammond said with a hint of that concern Jack would have sworn he was incapable of showing, his intense gaze moving over Mac's pale face. "She wants to help. It's what she does."

Mac swallowed hard, not trusting himself to meet Hammond's gaze as the mere mention of his physical state further weakened his stalwart defenses. The need to just close his eyes and hope to wake up when everything was well and done was far too tempting and had him feeling like a child, instead of a grown man. Instead he continued to run his hand over Curie's ears, breathing steadily. Curie watched his face for a moment before laying her head on his stomach with a commiserative heavy sigh as if she understood Mac's desire and was helpless to give him what he needed.

"She can gauge my pulse, you know. Sense when my anxiety spikes. Curie grounds me when I'm on the verge of losing touch with reality." Hammond folded his arms over his chest. Mac raised a brow, studying the general, but stayed silent as the older man continued. "I didn't handle coming home from combat as well as I thought I would. PTSD is a real bitch. If not for Curie, I might not be here. It's not just me either. I've seen her pick veterans out in plain clothes at the War College, sidle up to them as if she knows exactly what's going on in their heads." Hammond's face remained serious. "I think she's psychic but her trainer tells me she's just that damn intuitive."

"Sometimes I think Jack can sense a change in my heartrate from across the room." Mac let his eyes flick to Hammond, giving a slight smile, before focusing once more on the service dog. He couldn't help but to think about the conversation he and Bozer had on the plane ride to Hawaii, Bozer's theory about Jack playing a sort of pseudo-service dog role in Mac's life. Mac would probably never admit it but there were times right after Afghanistan when Jack had been the only thing that gave him hope that he could have some semblance of a normal life again. Mac glanced to Hammond again, a new sharper pain in his head making him squint. "But you're right, Curie has better breath."

Hammond snorted, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Well, I'd say Jack's more junkyard mutt, but I suppose he's got the total devotion part down and he probably sheds a lot less."

"Sometimes he's loyal to a fault, so much so that people can take advantage." Mac's voice was harder this time when he spoke, his eyes meeting Hammond's, hoping his tone indicated to the older man that his words were not mere observation, but a warning not to exploit Jack's weak spots.

"Look, kid, I know you don't completely trust me anymore," Hammond ran a hand over his bald head, gave a sigh similar to the one Curie had earlier as if he too were feeling inadequate. "But I need you to know I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you both come out of this in one piece. Do you understand me?"

"I didn't want to die back in the desert. I don't want to die now, especially not like this," Mac gestured to the IV, the equipment around him before meeting the older man's gaze once more. He needed to make sure there could be no gray areas between them. "But I'm not willing to let Jack sacrifice himself. Not again. This time I get a say in the matter, too. I get to choose what lengths we go to." He hated the breathless quality of his voice, the fact his eyes were stinging. Being vulnerable in front of Jack was one thing, but Mac worked hard to keep his defenses fortified around everyone else. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"What I understand is that Jack's never going to go along with any decision that doesn't have you coming out alive on the other side of this misfortunate situation, son."

"Then you'll just have to make sure that it's not left entirely up to him." Mac raised a brow, taking a deep breath. The air uncomfortably tickling his sore throat. "This is your operation, isn't it?"

Hammond gave a low growl that had Curie lifting her head and tilting it sideways as if she were trying to interpret its meaning. "I know what you're doing, Mac. You think I can't stand the idea of not being in charge."

Mac shrugged slightly, careful to not trigger another painful reminder of his bullet wound. He noticed Curie tracked the general's every move with her big soulful eyes. "I've known enough career soldiers to understand you all need to think you're in control."

"That's not a fault that befalls only us lifers." Hammond folded his arms over his chest, narrowing his gaze at Mac. "It's also one that strikes genius kids who think they can fix everything for everybody."

Mac stayed silent, not about to delve into his own need to manipulate a situation.

Something in Hammond's face changed, his thin eyebrows drawing together. "Your nose…"

Mac frowned, swiping a hand under his nose, only to come away with a read smear. He accepted the tissues Hammond offered but shook his head when the other man's hand moved to the call button. "Don't. Please…"

"I should call Jack."

"No!" Mac forced himself to sit up straighter, his hand not holding the tissue reaching out to grip Hammond's wrist. "You know he needs to focus. If we're going to pull this off, Jack's head has to be in the game, not on me."

Hammond dropped his chin to his chest in resignation before looking up once more to pin Mac with a hard stare. "You know you've been a pain in my ass since you cost me my most expensive whiskey and best Belgium chocolate all those years ago."

Mac removed his hand from Hammond's, his voice muffled due to the tissue that was still pressed to his nose. "Don't forget the sweet cigars."

"Oh I haven't forgotten, Angus."

Mac's grin came easily this time. "You could have always sent me back to my own unit that day, Perseus."

"Damned if you aren't still a smart ass." Hammond stood up straight, taking a couple of steps back. He clenched his fists at his side, giving Mac another once over. "But you're right, I could have sent you packing, procured an EOD that was actually old enough to shave, but seeing you standing there all puffed up and thinking you already knew all the best secrets of the big bad world, I just couldn't bring myself to throw you back to those Army ass-hats without at least trying to impart some damn wisdom, maybe keep them from getting you killed before you had a chance to buy a beer and get laid."

Mac wasn't quite sure if he should be insulted on his behalf or on the Army's. Knowing Hammond, probably both. "Thanks, I think."

"Then there was the fact you reminded me of someone I once knew, someone I once let down in a big way, and I couldn't help but to see you as some kind of providential do-over." Hammond's gaze grew distant.

"Jack?" Mac guessed, carefully removing the tissue from his nose, glad to see that the bleeding had stopped.

"Not Jack." Hammond shook his head. His eyes still focused on something outside the window, before his gaze rested on Mac once more. "Although I've let Jack down plenty over the years, I don't think he was ever as young as you looked that day."

"Why are you telling me this?" Mac asked as Hammond moved to study the machine that told Mac's heart rate and blood pressure. Following the general's movement made Mac's head spin.

"So you'll understand that Jack didn't have to twist my arm to get me to help him orchestrate that deal." Hammond faced Mac's bed again and Mac blinked quickly to try and refocus. "In fact, I was all for it. I took a vested interest in your survival that went way beyond Cubans and high dollar scotch, and maybe I let some of my own selfish purpose convince me that whatever Jack was willing to sacrifice was alright in the grand scheme of things it meant you got to make it to twenty-one." Hammond glanced at the ceiling, let out a puff of breath that spoke to how uncomfortable the conversation was making him. "I could have worked harder to broker a better deal, hell, I could have told you what was going on, but I kept my mouth shut, and even after Iraq when we almost lost that stubborn bastard I didn't say a word."

Mac was silent for a moment, letting Hammond's words sink in. "If it's any consolation I'm twenty five." Maybe it was the toll the poison was taking on his body, or perhaps Mac was afraid of leaving things unforgiven but he didn't have it in him to stay angry at the general. Despite what happened with Jack in Iraq, Mac cared about Hammond, was grateful to him for bringing him into Delta. Besides, Mac, better than most understood what it was like to want a do over, to desire a second chance to get things right. He also knew what it was to go to great lengths, maybe even unthinkable measures, to protect someone you cared about.

"It's not, but I appreciate the sentiment just the same." Hammond looked at his watch. "I better go. Our time line is going to be tight." Hammond gestured to Curie. "Will you keep an eye on her for me?"

"As long as you watch out for Jack." Mac smirked slightly, like the two were quid pro quo. "I'd tell you to keep him on a tight leash, but we both know that's just a waste of my breath and your energy."

"I'm definitely getting the short end of the stick, but consider it a done deal." Hammond patted Mac's leg, his eyes briefly meeting the kid's before turning to start for the door.

"Can I ask you something?" Mac's question brought the general up short.

Hammond turned, regarding Mac with a serious frown and another sigh, this one more put upon than the previous. "My brutal honestly quota is just about up, kid. And I have to tell you I'd almost rather gouge an eye out than have one more drama filled moment with you or your big brother, Jack." He ran a hand over his head. "I'm beginning to feel like one big dysfunctional family instead of one of the finest units the US government ever had the pleasure of putting together."

"It's nothing like that." Mac gestured to the dog, now practically lying on top of him. "Why did you name her after Madam Curie?"

"Hell, son, someone a whole lot more clever than me did that." Hammond rubbed at the slight silver beard on his chin that stood out in bright contrast against his dark skin. "I didn't get Curie until she was two, but even an unscholarly man like myself knew who she was named for. A woman who devoted her whole life to a career, to a mission, that she never even realized was slowly killing her. During all that work, a stealthy enemy was eating away at her piece by piece. I figured that couldn't be a coincidence. Me getting matched with Curie was practically fate, wouldn't you say."

The general didn't give Mac a chance to answer, turning and marching, stiff-backed out the door. Mac found it hard to swallow the lump that had sprung to his throat in the man's wake. Madame Curie was the first woman to win the Nobel Prize, a fact that was almost laughable considering. Talk about your coincidences. She was also the first and only woman to win twice, and the only person to win a Nobel Prize in two different sciences. She was on Mac's short list of historical figures he admired the most.

But now, the fact that none of her merits, none of those brilliant insights she'd brought into the world could change her fate struck a new chord in Mac. Like Hammond pointed out, Curie hadn't recognized the enemy until it was far too late, that dark and insidious predator inside her that was born from the pursuit of her accomplishments. Mac couldn't help to wonder at what the general had implied. Perhaps sometimes a man's greatest enemy, his inevitable downfall, was lurking quietly inside him all along, wreaking all sorts of unknowable havoc.

RcJ

"That makes the third time you've cleaned your gun," Danny Williams said to Jack from his spot behind Steve's desk, raising a brow. "I'm no expert on sniper rifles or anything but I'm pretty sure it's not required that they are sterile enough to serve food from."

"What time did Steve say he'd be back?" Jack dodged the detective's comment, sitting the rifle and cleaning kit to the side to stand and pace. He ignored the sudden wave of lightheadedness, a result of the concussion and lack of sleep. Nervous energy demanded he do something, the need for action and dealing with Nobel consuming his thoughts. He felt Danny's gaze follow him as he moved to the far wall, glancing out at the blinds to the main office area.

"He and Chin should be back any time." Danny propped his feet on Steve's desk, looking calm and collected. Jack figured a few hours of sleep and a shower had done the man good. He appreciated the fact Danny had been thoughtful enough to bring Jack not only another shirt, one without Kamekona's face as well as breakfast. "Did you get any rest last night?" Williams asked as if he had read Jack's thoughts.

"Enough." Jack lied, moving to grab the cup of tea Jerry had brought him earlier, absently pressing a hand to his injured side when the quick movement pulled at the wound. He'd have actually preferred coffee for a change, but even as weary as he was the extra caffeine wasn't something he wanted to add to the equation when he needed his nerves steady. Worrying about Mac was enough of a dynamic to throw into the mix and although shooting was like riding a bike, Jack hadn't stretched those particular muscles in a while. He gave Danny a forced grin. "I've survived on a lot less."

"How's your partner?" Danny gestured to the phone Jerry had set up for Jack seeing as he'd ditched his back in LA when the whole mess had started. "Was that him on the phone earlier?" The detective's eyes gave him a once over.

"No." Jack shook his head giving a slight grimace when unwanted pictures assaulted his mind, increasing the still present pounding. He chose not to talk about Mac's condition, instead focusing on the ladder question. "That was our version of Jerry, Riley. She's not exactly happy with me at the moment." He ran a hand through his short hair. "In fact, she's pretty pissed which isn't unusual when it comes to us."

"You seem to really have that effect on all your people." Danny said seriously, scratching his chin. "Steven seems to have better social skills, which isn't saying much considering his inept ability to communicate like a human being."

Jack rolled his eyes, fighting to not get defensive. "I'm merely on a bad streak at the moment. Typically, my people love me."

Danny tilted his head to the side, moving his feet on the table and sitting up a bit straighter. "Loveable isn't exactly a phrase I'd use to describe you."

"That's because you've only known me for like two days." Jack took a drink of the herbal tea, wincing at the bitterness. He had no idea what concoction Jerry had come up with but he'd seen him messing with the bag he'd gotten from William's girlfriend, the naturalist.

"Yet I had you pegged as trouble from the beginning." Danny propped his hands behind his head. "I've already been shot at and blown up. It's like my first few hours with Steven all over again."

Jack pinched at the bridge of his nose. He couldn't even deny that accusation. "Yeah, well, I never claimed to be easy to love, only that the people who know me best seem to think I'm worth the effort."

"The all too real threat of death does force a person to have a more forgiving nature."

"Is that why you put up with McGarrett?" Jack raised a brow, his eyes focusing back on Danny. He already knew the answer. "Death an all too familiar shadow?"

"That and my kids are rather attached to him. Steven has his good qualities. Add to that I'm not much one for quitting anything, especially family, so I take the good with the bad and increase my life insurance police every year and keep my will updated." Danny met Jack's gaze, a slight grin twitching around his mouth.

"Family should always be there." Jack took another drink of the tea, at least relishing in the warmth if not the taste.

"Except when we can't be everywhere." Danny took his feet from the desk, leaning forward, his gaze going distant for a moment. "I'm sure it sucks for you not to be able to be with the kid."

"Sucks doesn't even begin to cover it." Jack couldn't quite get the images from earlier in the morning to leave his mind's eye. Mac ripped from sleep, albeit a fitful rest, to be slammed with another round of torment from Nobel's mad science experiment. Jack had seen the kid hurt before, knew Mac was in the big leagues when it came to dealing with pain. Add to that the fact Angus MacGyver didn't dare show weakness or vulnerability and ninety-nine percent of the time only offered a stoic, determined sheer will power when confronted with mere things such as bruised ribs and the occasional broken bone. But Nobel's drug obliterated all of Mac's well-honed defenses like they were constructed of fine china instead of reinforced steel, leaving Jack charged with the task of picking up the pieces. Jack would say he sucked at that, too, but the word also failed to cover the spectrum at which Jack felt he'd failed.

"At least he knows where you are, that you're doing everything you can to help him." Danny's voice was quiet, void of any recrimination.

"Maybe, but as nice as sentiment as it is, it doesn't seem like much in the grand scheme of things." Jack tossed back the last of the tea, crushing the paper cup in his fist. The only help Jack had been able to offer last night seemed miniscule at best. He'd crawled onto the hospital bed, holding onto the shaking kid as Mac screamed until he was hoarse. Jack would have sworn his partner was being torn apart from the inside, although for all outward pretenses he was intact. There was only so much pain a body could take and Mac had obviously reached his limit, was way past it. Nobel had been right when he'd promised Jack he'd suffer, that Mac would beg him to stop what was happening, because Mac did beg. He pleaded for Jack to help him, which ironically made Jack feel like he was being ripped apart right along with his best friend. It was a side of Mac Jack had never seen and never wanted to see again. If someone had told him a week ago that he could actually feel more responsible for and more protective of his younger partner than he already did, Jack wouldn't have thought it possible. That misconception was proof that ignorance was indeed bliss.

"I would give anything for my kid brother to have known I was trying to save him, that I was doing everything in my power to help him." Jack was pulled from his dark thoughts not only by the detective's sudden confession, but by the change in his tone. Gone was the sarcasm and dry wit, replaced by complete sincerity. "Instead I'm pretty sure he died thinking I was pissed at him, that I had written him off." Danny clasped and unclasped his hands absently. "Matty would have gotten a hell of a kick out of the fact I helped steal millions of dollars to pay his ransom, that I'd have done anything to save him."

"What happened?" Jack wasn't surprised by the fact that Williams was capable of committing a felony for his family, after all, Steve McGarrett had chosen him as a partner and Steve was a man capable of anything if it meant saving someone he loved. They had never disagreed on that sentiment. Jack was only surprised that Williams hadn't succeeded in saving his brother. After all, he'd pegged Williams as one stubborn sonofabitch long before the man had confessed to not being any kind of quitter. The cold revelation that he'd failed at something as important as rescuing a brother sent a spike of fear through Jack's gut.

Danny folded his arms over his chest, hiding the flash of pain Jack had watched race across his face with a tight smile. "Same old story. Misguided youth takes one of many wrong roads, makes a really bad business deal with a very bad bad guy. Stupid kid gets greedy and thinks he can outsmart said bad guy. Bad guy puts a bullet in my little brother's brain and seals him up in an oil barrel before I can pay him back the money Matty stole."

"I'm sorry." Jack felt bile rise up in the back of his throat. Him dropping the ball in his attempt to protect Mac last night paling in comparison to Danny's personal nightmare. He'd once told Mac that having his death on his conscious would kill him, but looking at Danny Jack knew the truth. Sometimes a man just had to keep on living with what should have killed him. Jack was pretty sure that was a much worse fate.

Danny was spared a response by the buzz of the phone on Steve's desk. The detective picked it up. "What's up, Jerry?" Danny glanced at Jack. "We'll be right out."

"What is it?"

"It seems we just got a text on Nobel's phone." Danny stood, coming around the desk to start for the door. "Jerry said we needed to see it."

Jack nodded, but stopped Danny before he could open the door.

Danny glanced at Jack's hand that had latched onto his wrist, but stayed where he was.

"Your brother?"

"What about him?"

"What did you do to the man that took him from you?" Jack's face was dark, his voice void of emotions. He needed to know that there was more to the story, even if the fairytale ending was impossible.

"I killed the sorry sonofabitch." Danny didn't hesitate. "I just wish I could have drawn it out. Made him suffer more than he did when I put that bullet in his brain."

Jack had expected as much, but wasn't sure if the confirmation made him feel better or worse. "Did it help?"

"What do you think, Dalton?" Danny's voice held no heat, his eyes full of something like sympathy as he met Jack's expectant gaze.

"I think your kid brother is still dead." Jack felt deflated, exhausted.

"Exactly." Danny gave a slow nod. "Now let's go make sure you never know how much that really sucks."

Jack followed him out of the room, not liking the expression on Jerry's face as he handed him the burner phone.

"Sonofabitch!" Jack grit out as he looked at the picture, tilting it so Danny could see the message as well. It was a shot of Mac. Alone, except for Curie, who was stretched on the bed beside him, both of them looked to be asleep. There was a caption that read, 'Tick-Tock', followed by a number and the words 'call me'.

"Jerry, call HPD," Danny ordered. "Double the security we already have on MacGyver's room and make sure they have the photos of Nobel. I also want you to pull video surveillance from the time since Dalton left that room. I want to see who came and went in the last hour."

"I already gave photos to all the officers," Jerry explained his hand already on the phone. "Duke put his best men on patrol. They're stationed at Mac's door and at every entrance. He gave orders for only hospital staff and our people to enter the room."

"Nobel's partner could have passed himself off as staff maybe. We don't have any visual on him, or her." Jack proposed, swallowing hard as it sunk in just how defenseless he'd left his partner. He knew Nobel was trying to shake him, adding salt to the wound in the most effective way. Jonas wanted Jack desperate. "We need every person in and out of that room verified by Mac's doctor."

"Are you going to call him?" Danny asked, his eyes meeting Jack's, then going back to the message on the phone.

"First I need to check on Mac." Jack needed to hear his partner's voice, just to be certain. He handed Nobel's phone to Danny, making his way back into Steve's office where he'd left the cell Jerry had set up for him. He had never been so relieved when Mac picked up on the third ring, his voice scratchy and sleep rough.

" _Riley? That was quick."_

"It's me, bud." Jack ran a hand down his face, letting out the breath he'd been holding as he listened to the ringing on the other end.

" _Jack."_

Jack wasn't sure if he detected relief or concern in the way his best friend sort of exhaled his name, but he was too damn relieved to put too much thought into it. He paced in front of Steve's desk, knowing Danny and Jerry were watching him through the blinds. "You alright, kid?"

" _Did Hammond call you?"_

The question once more set off alarms in Jack's 'Mac radar'. "Should Ham have called me?"

" _Do you know how annoying it is when someone answers a question with a question?"_

Jack snorted at the exasperation he easily detected in the younger man's voice this time. He gave a slight chuckle. "Believe me when I say I have a good idea. Now tell me how you're doing, kid."

" _I'm no better or worse, man. How about you?"_

Jack looked up at the clock, doubtful of his partner's honesty, especially with the pained and exhausted quality in his voice, but knowing it was useless to push for more. "Oh, in the hour or so since I last saw you I got reamed a new one by Riley, had a not so peppy pep talk with Williams, and have been somewhat of a guinea pig for Jerry's new interest in homeopathic teas, but he is calling me by my first name instead of 'Agent Dalton'."

" _Sounds about par for the course for us. Have you heard from Nobel?"_

Jack squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm about to make contact, but I wanted to talk to you first."

" _Are you sure you're okay? Did something else happen? You sound shaken up."_

Shaken up didn't begin to cover it. "You know I'm going to get you out of this right?" Jack couldn't get Danny's remorse about the things left unsaid between him and his brother out of his head.

" _Jack…"_

"I've got to go, but I also need you to know something else," Jack interrupted, not giving his partner a chance to counter with an argument which Jack knew would include some long preamble about him not risking himself or prison to see his priority mission through. "I need you to know…" Jack sighed, shaking his head at his own inability to actually say what he was feeling, frustrated to no ends that three little words could be so hard to articulate, especially when they were undeniably true. Determined not to let Danny's regret from earlier ever be his own, Jack pushed past his emotional shortcomings, tough guy image be damned. "I love you, brother."

It was cowardly to hang up before Mac could respond, and Jack hated knowing that the declaration probably scared the kid more than offered any comfort, but he hoped if things did go south, that if he for some reason didn't make it back that the words Jack spoke to his best friend would someday be a gift, instead of a burden.

Danny gave him a questioning glance when he pushed through the door, to which Jack responded with a quick nod. "He's okay. At least as okay as he's going to be until we get that antidote."

"Duke's going to put a man in the room until this is over. Your partner will probably think its overkill but better safe than sorry." Danny passed Jack the burner. "Jerry's going to try for a trace, but we all know that's not going to be likely." He pointed to a window. "Steve and Chin are back from their meeting with the governor. They're parking as we speak."

Jack slid his cell in his pocket, ignoring the buzzing telling him that Mac was trying to call him back. He focused on the burner, punching in the number Nobel had sent. He hit the speaker button before placing the phone on the computer table between him and the other two men.

" _Tombstone."_

"Jonas." Jack clenched his jaw, imagining the gloating look on his former friend's scarred face.

" _Your young partner's not looking so good. I hate that I missed visiting in person, especially after the morning you two had. My associate said the boy's screams could be heard all the way down the hall, but I'd have liked to seen the results of my work in person or at least had great video like I did for your and Steve's little surprise."_

"I know my next lines are supposed to be filled with threats and promises of what I'm going to do to you for making the kid suffer, but how about we just go off script and I let you know that the meet's been set so you can get your jollies watching me off your old pal Quesan insead of tormenting Mac." Jack briefly lifted his gaze as Steve and Chin entered the room, Danny motioning to the phone before they could speak. Jack gripped the edge of the table channeling his anger to keep his voice neutral. "How will I get the antidote when it's done?"

" _I guess you'll find that out when I see for myself that Quesan's dead from your bullet. I want a head shot, not a sloppy body shot like you tried with me."_

"You'll get it." Jack said, praying the cadaver Bozer was convinced he could make look exactly like Quesan would be good enough to fool Nobel. He'd use blood packs like they did in the movies to create the effects of a shot to a live body. Despite Jack's concerns, Hammond and Steve had convinced Jack that going along with their plan was preferable to Jack actually killing a federal prisoner. Jack wasn't completely convinced but had to agree that shooting a dead man wouldn't weigh quite so much on his, or more importantly Mac's, conscience nor would it get Jack a stretch in jail unless the Army decided to prosecute. "But I want a guarantee that my partner is going to get that antidote in time. I hate to sound like I don't trust you, but let's be real, I don't trust you, you fucking bastard."

" _The antidote is in a secure location and as soon as I watch Quesan go down I will send the coordinates to Steve."_

Jack started to open his mouth to object, but Nobel cut him off.

" _You can watch me send them, right before I kill you."_

"That's not going to happen, Jonas." Steve stepped beside Jack, glaring at the phone as if Jonas could see him.

" _Surely you didn't think I ever planned on letting Jack live through this, Smooth Dawg."_ There was an evil glee easily detected in Jonas's tone _. "You're lucky I'm not going to kill you and Hammond as well, but I figure Hammond having to bury his pet will push him over that edge I hear he's been teetering on for a while now, and you, well, you knowing you failed not only to save Freddie but Jack as well will at least stick in your craw, Commander. I can live with that."_

Jack gripped Steve's arm, giving a shake of his head when the Navy Seal started to speak again. "Where do you want to meet?" Jack asked Nobel, not completely surprised at the turn of events.

" _Just keep my phone with you and turned on. I'll find you, Tombstone. You can count on that."_

Jack looked to Jerry as the conversation ended. The computer tech still tapping on his screen.

"I got nothing," He admitted, glancing up to the big screen where a larger than life image of Riley suddenly appeared. "How about you, Artemus?"

It was one of the hacker names Jack knew Riley had used before her incarceration and he hadn't missed the hint of admiration and star struck awe in Jerry's voice as he asked the question. Jack hadn't thought about the two computer geeks knowing each other, but considering Jerry's distrust of the government and Riley's history, it wasn't exactly a far reach.

"He's rerouting through too many servers, bouncing off a network of towers. You said he's not a hacker, but he has to have someone my skill set or higher on his payroll." Riley flicked her gaze to Jack. "We're talking Murdoc smart if you know what I mean."

"How much of that conversation did you hear, _Artemus_?" Jack growled, flashing Jerry a scowl he was glad to see brought a flush of guilt to the man's face.

"Enough to know you're an idiot." Riley glared at Jack, the fact she was wearing some kind of shirt with a kitten of all things on it and sitting on the same pink frilly comforter Jack remembered her having as a ten year old not helping her attempt to look menacing.

"Well let's just keep that little revelation between us, darlin'. Along with Nobel's latest curve ball. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." The voice that answered wasn't Riley's and as Jack tried to quickly wrap his mind around the recent turn of events, the screen split and Mac's flushed, scowling face now appeared proving Jack had been completely wrong about the impossibility of his day getting any worse. This was classic Jack Dalton luck. He glanced to Riley, who to her credit, seemed somewhat apologetic, then back to Mac, who only looked pissed off, though Jack could easily make out the weariness beneath the anger. "You just ordered her to keep me out of the loop."

"Well, hell." Jack dropped his chin to his chest, feeling the uncomfortable stares of everyone in the room. He sure as hell would leave an impression with Steve's team, and not a good one. He lifted his gaze to meet Mac's challenging glower, noting the subtle cracks in the attitude. The fact Mac was in a hospital gown, unable to hide the fact he was trembling like a leaf in a thunderstorm and had a giant fluffy lap dog draped over him was more of a deterrent to his attempts to pull off badass than Riley's cutesy shirt and frilly backdrop had been. He was paler than before if that were possible, or maybe Curie's big white body only accentuated Mac's lack of color. "I guess you don't want to talk about this in private?"

"Privacy's not really an option for me considering I have a couple of officers in my room." Mac glanced to the side of him, then back to Jack. "But I guess that's just another piece of information you were going to keep to yourself."

"We'll call you back, Mac." Steve looked to Jerry, making a slashing sign across his neck. The screen instantly went black, but not before Jack caught the flash of indignation and protest on Mac's face. If Jack made it out of this alive, there would be hell to pay.

"Sorry, boss." Jerry motioned to Jack. "Agent Dalton's the one who told me to work with Bozer and Artem…I mean Riley to set up surveillance and comms with the hospital." Jack rubbed his eyes giving a heavy sigh. He and Jerry were back to formalities. "Considering her expertise I was hoping she might have better luck with a trace."

"It's fine." Steve held up a hand to halt any further apologies. "Maybe just let us know who all's on board next time."

" _Before_ I stick my foot in my mouth would be preferable," Jack added, groaning when he felt his cell phone start to vibrate once more in his pocket. He ignored it, knowing nothing he said to his partner was going to smooth over the fact Jack had pretty much conceded to what might constitute as a freaking suicide mission.

"Jack?" Steve raised a brow. "You know what you're doing?"

"I do." Jack met his old friend's gaze, but then turned to Steve's partner before continuing. He kept his eyes locked with Danny's as he gave a resolute nod. "I'm doing whatever it takes to save my brother."

To be continued….

PS. I have a special story coming up tomorrow or at the latest, Wednesday, which is a bit different, but I hope you will enjoy just the same. It's probably no surprise but it is Mac and Jack centric as I tend to be a purist when it comes to those lovely boys.


	13. Chapter 13

Guard Your Heart

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: We are almost to the end. One more chapter! Thank you to those who have been so patient with the completion of this story. I hope it does not disappoint in these remaining chapters. A special thanks to Gib for her amazing advice on body armor and all things sniping, and to Mary, who worked on this from yet another country during her travels. This story has been all over the globe. And thanks to you who review! It means so much.

RcJ

Jack flipped down the bipod for his rifle, shaking his head a little at the fact he'd brought his favored Blaser R93 to Hawaii. Not being able to fly commercial had its advantages although making his way across the Pacific with Frank Bama had been a hell of a high price to pay for bringing his own go-to sniper's rifle. Now Jack couldn't help but to wonder at the foreshadowing. At the time, he hadn't thought much about packing it, blaming Nobel's letter for the resurrection of old memories, spurning an irrational need for Jack to have his own weapon, much like a child with their security blanket.

From his vantage point on the top of the warehouse Jack could make out the road some 600 meters away which cut a path between the sets of abandoned buildings almost like a pass through a boxed canyon in any number of the old westerns Jack's father had loved. It was one of the reasons they'd picked it for the exchange. The area was not only out of the way and lacking in civilians but considering it dead-ended in docks that led nowhere but into the Pacific Ocean, it was as suitable as any place for an ambush.

Apparently one of Steve's team technically owned the empty storage spaces, or her husband did at least. Jack hadn't gotten the whole scoop on how a member of the task force was linked to a business that had once been used for import and export of a vast variety of illegal contraband. The only thing that mattered to him at the moment was that he had a sweet shot of the entrance where the pseudo exchange was set to take place at any time.

He was exposed on the roof, the hairs on the back of his neck reminding him of his sparse cover and lack of a blind. Jack's first pick would have been a spot _inside_ the building. But like every sordid thing that had transpired since three days ago when Mac was shot, Jonas had his hand in the mix. He was the one who insisted Jack be in view, sending a subsequent text after their latest call that he would be watching and if his directions weren't followed exactly, there would be no antidote. Jonas's specific allocations made Jack even more conscious of the rows of windows in the adjacent warehouse. Jack was half a mile from the exchange point and out of street view, but then predators always sought higher ground. Jack was fully aware that he was in that moment both the hunter and most assuredly the hunted.

"How you doing, Tombstone?" Steve's voice came over the comm, and Jack smirked, wondering at the lucky bastard's position. He knew his former teammate was somewhere inside one of the buildings surrounding him.

"Not as good as you, I'm sure." Jack wiped the back of his hand over his forehead, beads of sweat spontaneously reappearing even before he lowered his arm, not to mention the still present, if muted pounding behind his eyes. Hawaii was beautiful, but it was also hotter than Hell. "I'm like Icarus up here baking myself in my close proximity to this blazing sun of paradise while you cool your jets in a shady perch no doubt."

" _Proximity_?" Steve snorted. "That's fancy language for the Jack I know."

"I guess hanging around with a genius has rubbed off on me." Jack repositioned himself on the ground, wishing he'd brought his mat as his vest dug into his ribs and rubbed against the butterfly bandages as he rolled into the prone position behind his rifle. He placed Nobel's phone off to the side, in easy reach. "What does that say for you and all the curmudgeon-like love language you endure from your partner on a daily basis?"

"I'm impervious to Danno-speak. Goes in one ear and right out the other" Steve sighed. "Partner-deaf is what our therapist calls it."

"You two have a therapist?" Jack flipped the scope covers, scanning the area below him. He had a strong sensation of Deja vu when Steve laughed. He almost expected to find the familiar landscape of a desert or worse some jungle on the other side of the lens. "Like a marriage counselor?"

"Don't knock it, brother," Steve told him with another slight chuckle. "From what I've seen from your team these last couple of days, you might need to invest in one when you guys head back to LA."

"I think we'll stick to fishing trips." Jack smirked even though the other man couldn't see him. He and Mac had endured regulation debriefing by Phoenix's own shrink after the disaster that was Cairo, and had even gone to a few meetings at the VA of their own volition when Mac had some issues after returning from Afghanistan but Jack just couldn't imagine himself, Bozer, Riley and Mac sitting on a couch in some therapist's office like some dysfunctional family. The intervention they'd attempted under Penny Parker's direction when Mac had gone off book over Nikki still made him chuckle. Give him the fire pit on Mac's back deck and some beers any day of the week. "Mac has this sweet little cabin we go to for team bonding."

"Right," Steve scoffed. "Meaning you get drunk and shoot the shit while holding some fishing poles before throwing the backup steaks on the grill?"

"That's about the gist of it." Jack smiled wistfully, trying to remember the last time he and Mac had even had a semblance of a vacation. After this ordeal was over he was going to make getting away a priority. That was if Mac didn't hate him before all was said and done. His partner had been less than thrilled when Jack chose to have his own radio channel with Steve alone.

Mac took it as one more measure Jack was using to protect him. If Jack was completely honest that might have been part of it, because if the worst happened having his best friend hear him dying wasn't exactly the way he wanted to leave things between them until they met again in the afterlife. Considering Jack was pretty sure they would be going opposite places he wanted to part on the best terms possible.

A great deal of the decision had to do with Jack's concentration, with his ability to block out unnecessary stimuli that might interfere with him making the long distance shot. Sure the target was already dead, but Nobel didn't know that, and Jack had to make it look it perfect. Mac countered of course that he had spent almost a year in Delta as Jack's spotter, his voice a constant either via comms or literally at his side, so he didn't understand how he was a distraction. Jack had painfully pointed out that at no time had Mac worked at his side in an extremely compromised position. They both knew Jack's weakness and if Jack was listening to every inflection and pained breath from his partner fearing it might be Mac's last, he wouldn't be able to do his thing.

"I'm switching frequencies, Tombstone," Steve told him. "ETA in two minutes. Just as we went over the Federal Marshals are coming first and when they're in position the DEA will follow along with Five-0's escort."

"Copy that, Dawg. See you on the flipside, brother." Steve would relay what needed to be relayed and Jack had no doubt that Riley had used satellite feed to maneuver her and Mac into a sort of sky box view of what would be taking place. The thought was not as comforting as it should have been considering Jack's original point. He blocked all thoughts of his demise out of his mind, slowing his breathing. His body readjusted to old hat. Like muscle memory he slid effortlessly into the zone that would allow him to make the shot he needed.

The black SUV holding a team of US marshals who'd been on Hammond's plan from the beginning came into view first, traveling halfway to the docks before turning their vehicle so that it was facing the entrance in which they had come. No one got out of the vehicle and the tinted windows allowed Jack no view of who might be inside.

The marshals had barely made it into position when the DEA showed as well sporting their own non-descript sedan. Jack knew Pauley was with this group, along with Bozer. He wasn't exactly thrilled with his newest team member being right in the mix of things but then Bozer would remain in the bullet proof car at all times. He had to be in close proximity to set off the blood packets that would make Jack's shot look as though it was striking a living target and not a corpse. Bozer had sent him a selfie with Quesan's deceased doppelganger which he'd quite cleverly captioned _Operation Weekend at Bernie's_.

Jack gave him props for creativity and appropriate movie reference although the guy looked a little green around the gills, Bozer, not their own 'Bernie'. The mask Bozer had created of Quesan was impressive. Had Jack not known the truth he'd have bought into the reuse, which also involved a complex set of braces and some kind of pulley that would keep the corpse upright and semi-mobile.

Jack didn't have any more time to consider the complexities of what was going on behind the scenes. His one role was to bring about Bernie's second demise and then get Nobel to relent with the antidote. It was a risk. Thinking Jonas would go along with his part of the deal was probably extremely naive, as Mac had pointed out repeatedly, but Jack was counting on the man's desire for revenge to at least lure him out in the open and it wasn't like they had any other choice but to play along. He would trust everyone else including McGarrett's team which had just showed in Danny's Camaro to carry out their parts.

Time seemed to slow as the marshals exited their vehicle upon Five-0's arrival, moving towards the other car. For all intents and purposes it looked like a typical hand off, the kind of exchange that happened more than the average Joe Citizen realized. Two DEA got out of the Sedan, coming around to open the back passenger door where Pauley emerged, hauling what looked like a very much alive Miguel Quesan. Whatever Bozer rigged to have the man's head and handcuffed hands move was damn convincing. Jack waited for his window. The moment when their ringer would move into position that Jack could take the shot without error.

He focused on his heart rate, released a breath through his mouth just as he applied slight pressure to the trigger. Poor Bernie's head gave a jerk, and despite Jack knowing he'd just put a bullet through latex and a dead man's skull, he got that same sick feeling he always got in the pit of his gut when a target was dispatched. Resting his head on the stock for a split second, he imagined the others going through the motions, scrambling through the same kind of commotion that would have followed in the occurrence that they had actually lost a very important informant at the hands of an unknown shooter.

Jack scooted away from the ledge, grabbing Nobel's phone. He took his rifle and started towards the door for the stairwell that had brought him to the roof. Jack had just looked down at the screen, about to hit send on the message confirming the kill which he'd typed earlier when a burning pain tore through the back of his right leg. The bullet exited the front of Jack's thigh, leaving a bloody mess. Jack went down hard on his hands and knees. He nearly face planted as his hands instinctively went to the wound, but managed to twist at the last second, rolling onto his back away from the rifle he'd dropped as he gripped at his leg.

"Tombstone's down!" A familiar, albeit weak voice echoed in Jack's ear and Jack squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of nausea that rushed through him along with the realization that Mac had apparently had Riley hack his comm link. So much for Jack's good intentions.

"I don't have eyes on the shooter," Steve responded as Jack let go of his leg and tried to push himself into a sitting position. He fumbled for the Beretta in the holster at his back.

"Opposite roof." Mac fired off, his words strained. "Two o-clock to your position. Not sure of the elevation."

"I got him." Jack let out the breath he was holding when Steve's calm voice broke once more over the line, assuring that he now had a bead on the shooter. "It's not Nobel."

"Then kill the bastard," Jack growled, figuring the man as Nobel's partner/protégé. He'd managed to get to the backup weapon, his blood smeared fingers slipping on the grip of the gun. "Before he gets off another shot." There was no cover, sans some air conditioning units protruding from the roof and even those were too far to do Jack any damn good.

"Target down," Steve's tone was clipped and Jack sent up a silent 'thank you' that McGarrett was as efficient as he'd ever been with a sniper's rifle.

"Good copy, target's down." Mac responded, coughing slightly.

"Hang on, Jack," Steve came across again as Jack blinked sweat out of his eyes and tried to get his pain under control.

He'd no sooner wondered if Mac even realized he'd reverted to military speak when Mac's voice came across the line again. He sounded weary. Jack figured Mac's adrenaline surge was quickly failing his partner, the toxin stronger than Mac's resolve. "Tombstone, did you read? Jack? Sit Rep now."

"I'm here, kid." Jack breathed out, managing to make it to one knee just as the door to the stairwell slammed open and a dark shadow blotted out the sun. Despite his wishful thinking Jack understood Steve probably had no way of making it to him in such a short time.

"Not for long," Nobel's voice confirmed Jack's suspicion and he barely got out a muttered 'damn it' before the bastard shot him straight center mass sending Jack back to his ass in a wave of agony.

If Jack could have breathed he'd cursed a blue streak. He supposed he should have been grateful Steve insisted on military grade vests for his team despite their added bulk. The level three would have him sporting some spectacular bruising and maybe even a broken rib or two from the close range shot, but he was still breathing, although with some difficulty. Jack briefly considered that the alternative might have been preferable when Jonas landed a vicious kick to Jack's ribs that had him giving another pained grunt and defensively curling into a ball.

"Jack!" Mac's voice was panicked now, all trace of cool, calm and collected vanishing as he no doubt was treated to a perfect view of what was going down, and with the added sound effects, thanks to Riley's tech savvy and Mac's unrelenting stubbornness.

"Throw the weapon away, Jack, so we can talk." Nobel used his boot to roll Jack onto his back, keeping his 9mm pointed at Jack's head. He had a piece of wood in his other hand and Jack briefly wondered if his old friend hadn't decided whether to beat him to death or to use a bullet. "It's not like you can use it. Not if you want to save your partner."

"Shoot him, Jack! Kill him." Mac's said pleadingly through the comm, the pained quality in the kid's words evident and Jack had a fleeting moment where he wished to hell his partner would just pass out and be spared witnessing whatever was about to happen.

Jack let the gun drop from his fingers, shoving it away with what little strength he could manage. As much as he'd liked to have at least tried to get a shot off at the grinning bastard above him, he wouldn't risk Mac's life.

"Good boy," Jonas grinned, giving a shake of his head. He took a step backwards, sliding the piece of wood through the door handle, effectively jamming it from the outside. It would take Steve time to break it down. Time Jack didn't have. "Let's save our next team reunion for Hell, shall we? We wouldn't want Smooth Dawg showing up before we close our deal."

"Job's done." Jack rasped out, one hand coming to splay over his vest. It felt like his sternum was cracking open but Jack made it to an elbow. He tried to move his wounded leg, but a fiery pain had him tottering on the edge of black oblivion and he sure as fuck couldn't risk passing out. Jack drew in a hitched breath. "Or didn't you see? Quesan's dead, Jonas. Along with your business associate, thanks to McGarrett, which I assume was part of your plan all along. You got two for the price of one."

"We all know I don't play well with others." Jonas shrugged, lifting his free hand in a 'what's a guy to do' kind of way that made Jack want to get up off the ground and kick his ass. "It's not my fault that my associate, or should I say watch dog, got cocky and put himself in a position to be taken out by Five-0. At least that's the story I'm sticking to. I suppose I owe Smooth Dawg for tying up a loose end. Maybe I'll just peacefully leave his island with my million dollar paycheck and satisfaction knowing that you're no longer breathing."

"Spare me the cliché bad guy talk that happens in every action movie." Jack struggled to more of an upright position, the effort costing him as he felt something give in the side that Jonas had kicked. "Just give us the location of the antidote."

"Oh, Tombstone, you pathetically obtuse imbecile. You would know that information better than I would. After all, you've had the antidote all along." Jonas reached down and jerked the comm from Jack's ear. "Did you hear that, MacGyver? You copy, Shepherd? I assume you're listening, that is if you've managed to stay conscious this long considering your respiratory system should have already shut down if my projected timeline holds true. Your good buddy, Jack, has had the means to help you since the night you were shot and he was just too dumb to realize it." Jonas dropped the comm on the ground and stomped it, leaving Jack to wonder if and how his partner might have responded. Perhaps Mac was just as dumfounded as Jack.

"What the hell are you talking about, Nobel?" Jack demanded, trying to push himself to his knees despite his ribs protesting every move.

"Now you want me to talk? Make up your mind, man." Nobel grinned. "Poor, Jack. As talented a leader and sniper as you were, you never were the brightest crayon in the box. Let me spell it out for you. What I mean is that you literally held MacGyver's salvation in the palm of your hand. You could have prevented all that pain he endured, ended all his suffering with just one bullet, a bullet I kindly sent to you." Jonas's face darkened. "Ironic isn't it? So tragically fitting considering how you withheld such courtesy and simple mercy from me. All of this." Jonas swept his arms to the sides. "Comes down to one single bullet."

"Damn it, Jonas." Jack choked, the reality of Nobel's sick and twisted ploy sinking in. "I was trying to save you, you fucking sonofabitch. I wanted to help you back then."

"That's your problem, Jack!" Jonas faced contorted with the first hints of anger. The scars on his face seemed to stand out in relief, giving a flash of the monster he had always housed on the inside. "You and your stupid heart!" Jonas squeezed off another shot, hitting Jack square in the chest.

It was a like taking a blow from a heated sledge hammer. Something with sharp teeth and steel claws attempting to tear it's way inside him. Jack was no longer sure the vest had held because his world had been consumed by pain, but he took the fact he wasn't currently choking on his own blood as a positive sign. He would have screamed if he could have managed the air it would have taken or at least tried to roll away, but Jonas had effectively stopped that by squatting beside him, knee firmly planted against Jack making it impossible for the other man to escape, let alone draw a full breath.

"If only you'd used your brain for once and considered the extrapolating consequences of your seemingly noble and righteous actions." Jonas wrapped the gun painfully against Jack's forehead. Jack could hear Steve's voice shouting from behind the closed door now, a pounding that told he was going to be through it soon. It made him consider Jonas's end game. What he planned on after he killed Jack. Unless he'd suddenly developed the skill to fly, he'd have to face off with Steve, unless he never banked on either of them getting off the roof alive. "If you hadn't let your heart get in the way and been trying to save one more person to make yourself feel holier than though," Jonas continued, "I wouldn't have suffered all those years and your partner wouldn't be dying as we speak."

"Fuck you." Jack managed, keeping his eyes locked on the man. Jonas merely smiled, moving the barrel to Jack's forehead once more. "Just do it."

Nobel grinned. "We're practically the same, you and me. Killers. Walking destruction. We both know there's really only one cure for our kind of brokenness, Tombstone. I would have been better off dead that day back in the jungle, and so will you. The only difference is that I'm willing to oblige." Nobel pressed the muzzle of the gun harder against Jack's skull and Jack closed his eyes. "Goodbye, Jack."

For all the times Jack had sent a bullet spiraling into another man's skull, he'd never given much thought to how it felt. Technically, he understood the damage it would cause, the mess it would leave behind, bone fragments and brain that some poor CSI would have to pick through and bag separately. Logically he knew his targets were gone before they hit the ground, but that didn't tell him what might or might not transpire in those precious seconds between life and death. He considered praying, but figured he was past any such favor. Jack braced himself for the unknown, comforted only by the fact it would be over quickly, although hating like hell that Mac, if he was still conscious, and Riley were having to watch, that he'd be leaving them with one nightmare of a goodbye.

A heavy weight struck Jack's already hurting chest. It was so unexpected that Jack forced his eyes open, finding Jonas's body slumped across him. The bullet hole that should have been Jack's was easily seen in the other man's forehead. There was a pool of blood spreading around them, and Jack wasn't sure how much of it was Nobel's and how much was his. If the dark edges around his field of vision were any indication, he guessed a good majority had come from his leg. He shoved at the dead weight, trying to roll out from underneath Jonas, just as he heard the door finally give way, Steve, Danny, Chin and Pauley piling out of the stairwell onto the roof in one black blur.

"About time," Jack slurred as Steve pulled Nobel from across Jack, kicking the gun that had fallen from the former teammate's hand out of reach as if Jonas might once more pull a sneaky resurrection. "What just happened?"

"Hammond happened." Steve knelt next to Jack.

"Just like old times, Tombstone." Pauley added, with a grin that didn't quite reach his face. Jack surmised it was due to the fact the Delta operator was standing in a puddle of Jack's blood.

He heard Danny speaking into his radio asking where in the hell the medical team was and what was taking so long. Jack tried to wrap his mind around what Steve was saying, something about Jack being a fucking mess, although the fact his friend was fiddling with his vest, checking to see if the integrity held, was about to send Jack into the sweet bliss of oblivion.

"Hammer shot Jonas?" Jack managed, hissing when someone applied pressure to the wound in his leg. It might have been Chin. Jack kept his gaze on Steve. "But the antidote…"

"Mac caught Jonas's taunt about the bullet. He wanted Hammond to end it as soon as Nobel tossed out that bit of information, but Hammond wouldn't until Jerry went through your bags back at the office. He found the bullet with the note. There was no powder. Just primer in the casing, and a tiny vial. You wouldn't have noticed the weight distance." Steve said, obviously trying to let Jack off the hook for his disastrous error, a screw-up that had hurt Mac. "Hey, stay with me." Jack blinked when Steve gave him a little shake. "Jerry has a police escort taking the vial to the hospital as we speak. It's all good, brother."

"But…" Jack's mind raced right along with his heart, which he could practically feel bumping against his chest. Jonas could have lied. It could have been just one more twist in his diabolical plan. "But what if…"

"Mac said it was worth the risk." Steve gave a smirk, seeming to read Jack's dire thoughts. He gestured to the ear piece he was wearing. "He also said to tell you that if you die, he's not taking the damn stuff, cure or not."

Jack laughed though it hurt like hell. Darkness encroached closer this time and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep the formidable call of oblivion away much longer. "Tell him…" Jack debated, knowing he'd already said the most important thing back at Five-0 headquarters, the words he'd needed to for his own selfish purposes. This time he tried to think of what would make Mac feel better about the fact his partner had just been shot several times by a maniac and could quite possibly be bleeding out. "Tell him I said Bob McAdoo-hands down best Laker ever."

The last thing Jack saw before giving in to the beckoning black was the very confused and concerned look on Steve McGarrett's face.

RcJ

"What?" Mac thought he wasn't hearing McGarrett correctly; the rushing of blood in his ears was getting louder, his audial processing somehow being affected by the poison. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to keep the images in front of him from blurring. He could no longer see Jack, the men crowded around him blocking Mac's view from the satellite images.

"Bob McAdoo," Steve said again, his voice calm. "Jack said to tell you he was the hands down best Laker ever."

Mac realized with some relief that his partner was playing the 'last word' game, something they'd started years ago when missions turned dicey in the field. It was sort of their secret code, a way to promise that they would live to fight another day, because neither was willing to let the other get the final say on any subject matter. Mac swallowed hard, feeling his heart almost painfully pounding in his chest. He forced a confidence into his reply that he nowhere near felt.

"Tell him I said in his dreams. There's a reason Jerry West _is_ the NBA logo." When Steve didn't respond, Mac flashed a quick, albeit slightly unfocused glance to Dr. Kunha who was standing near his bed, keeping close vigil, along with Curie who now stood at her side, anxiously watching her ward. Noelanie only had eyes for the machines around Mac's bed and he could he tell from her stance that she had picked up on the change in his heart rate and oxygen levels right along with Curie who was whining. He knew his voice was weakening, his grip on consciousness shaky at best and he was afraid the commander hadn't heard him, but then Steve's voice came through the computer.

"Sorry, Mac. He's out."

"What?" Panic ratcheted up a notch if that were possible. Seeing Jack shot three times and watching as Nobel prepared to finish him off had Mac's emotions primed to the maximum. He tried to sit up straighter, fueled by new adrenaline but didn't have the strength for it. "Is he…"

"I'm guessing blood loss," Steve continued, pausing for a moment before adding, "The leg wound looks like it could be arterial."

Mac pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, willing the black spots away, along with the steadily growing pounding. He felt sick. Sicker than before and he knew something was wrong. Despite the cool temperatures inside the room he was burning up and it was harder to catch his breath. Jack's current situation took precedent over whatever might be going on with him. "Where are the medics?"

"They're on their way, man. We're going to take care of him."

Mac felt almost as helpless as he had when Nobel first showed up on that roof. It was that same kind of sick, punch in the gut sinking sensation he'd experienced when he'd watched Murdoc hold Jack, Riley and Thornton at gun point when he'd been tucked safely away at Phoenix-only worse. Murdoc hadn't shot Mac's partner in front of him. Despite Mac demanding Hammond do something when he'd heard the general speak over the other channel that he had the new target,Nobel, in sight, he'd been told they had to wait. Hammond had promised Jack not to do anything until they had the damn antidote. It was just like Jack to put Mac's welfare above his own. He'd never forgive his partner if the idiot died because of his infuriating selfless nature.

Even after Mac had zeroed in on what Jonas was saying about the bullet, albeit a bit slower on the uptake than he would have been without the fact he was fighting off a deadly toxin, he'd told Hammond to take the shot at Nobel. An order Hammond ignored until Jerry could confirm Mac's theory. The whole process had almost taken too long. Hammond cutting it way too close. They'd nearly lost Jack, and apparently still might.

"Mac, the EMT's are here. I'm going to cut the channel." Steve's voice penetrated Mac's dark thoughts. He looked up back to the screen, removing his hands from his eyes. His vision was still blurry at best. He fought to focus. "I'll get in touch with you or Noelani as soon as we reach the hospital." Steve assured, not waiting for Mac to respond before silence filled his end.

"Riley?" Mac inquired quietly, breathless. The pounding behind his eyes intensifying enough to have him swallowing hard, praying that he wouldn't soon be fending off a repeat of the episode from the morning. Curie jumped up at the bottom of the bed, making her way to Mac's side once more. "Did you read that?"

"I did, Mac." Riley's worried face suddenly replaced the scene from the warehouse. Mac started to argue for her keeping the visual but knew she'd probably cut the feed for the same reason Steve had ended communications with Mac. There wasn't anything productive that would come from Mac watching and listening from a distance at this point. "What do you want me to do?"

Mac hesitated for a moment, rubbing a hand over his forehead, blinking. Riley's voice sounded wrong, like static was interfering their connection. Curie bumped her head against Mac's shoulder, her whining growing louder. "I want you to connect me with Bozer, and then call Thornton. Let her know what's going on."

"I'm on it." Riley's eyes found Mac's, concern evident in her gaze. "This is Jack…he'll be okay."

"I know." Mac nodded, hoping his face might reflect more assurance than he felt. He tried to take a deep breath, to clear the iron band that seemed to have formed around his chest. Mac was relieved when Riley's image was gone, not wanting her to see the multitude of cracks he could feel forming in his resolve. When Bozer's face appeared Mac clenched his fists in the sheets to steel himself. "Boze?"

"Dude? What the hell?" Bozer was on his cell from the looks of it, the leather seats in the back of the Sedan visible behind him. "Jerry said they got the antidote but that Jack was shot-that it was bad."

Mac nodded, knowing that Bozer had only received enough information via another agent to set off the blood packs at the correct moment and that he'd been pretty much in the dark from his sequestered position. Jerry must have filled in the more important blanks. "I need you to do me a favor." He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a second to will the building pain away.

Bozer looked hesitant but nodded, a frown on his face. "Okay."

"When they get Jack off that roof and into the ambulance promise me you'll stay with him. I don't care what you have to do or say to make it happen."

"But…"

"No buts, Boze. You know why. You have to be there if I can't." Mac took a breath, trying to hold off the pain he could feel gaining momentum. Bile rose to the back of his throat. "I'm…I'm not even sure they'll bring him here. I don't know which hospital is closest to your location. Promise me." He rushed his words, his head swimming. One hand moved unconsciously to the collar of his gown, trying to loosen it slightly. Why was he so hot? He felt Noelani move closer, even as Curie gave alert with a guttural woof.

"Hey, Mac, take it easy. You don't look so good…"

"Bozer! Promise me you won't leave Jack alone. You'll stay with him." Mac knew he was probably causing his own bit of panic if the alarm in Bozer's dark eyes were any indication. Noelani put a hand on his shoulder now, and Mac felt more than saw the officer across the room shift.

"I will, Mac, but what about you?"

"I'll be okay." Mac wasn't entirely sure that was true. He panted; ink was slowly bleeding into his field of vision, the room fading like a smeared water color print. "I've got to go." He cut their connection.

"Agent MacGyver?" Noelani tightened her grip on Mac as he tipped forward when he closed the computer.

"I think… you should call Dr. Kamaka…" Mac could no longer get a breath. His lungs had locked-that feeling of hitting the ground so hard that your body was unable to draw air now a constant state. He tried not to panic as alarms sounded. Curie licked his face, Noelani called out to the officer to get help. Mac clenched his fists tighter, felt that old familiar fear and horror he had when El Noche had forced him to breathe Nitrogen, efficiently drowning him without one drop of water and he tried to fight, desperate for air, barely aware now that hands were pinning him to the bed.

Mac had the same hopeful thoughts flashing through his mind he'd had in that terrible moment in Mexico, surrounded by men who were hurting him and would eventually kill him. Jack would come. He silently screamed his partner's name as he had then, believing wholeheartedly that somehow his best friend would hear him, an even farther reach than the attempt at Morse code he'd made in the trunk of the car travelling down the interstate after being taken against his will after the prison break. Still, Mac had some kind of childish faith Jack would rush in to save the day just like he always did.

Only Jack didn't show up this time. There was no last minute rescue and Mac understood there wouldn't be. Thoughts of Jack being dead stole Mac's final purchase. The last thing he heard was Noelani insisting he hold on. Mac tried, but he was in that moment very much an unsecured boat in a storm. It wasn't a peaceful drifting away, an unmooring like he imagined his mother's so many years ago when she'd slipped out of his life, but a violent dashing, a devastating tsunami that drove him under and out of reach of all that he knew.

RcJ

"Mac!" Jack awoke with a jolt, his partner's name escaping on a strangled gasp. Strangers were surrounding him and for a brief moment Jack was back in Iraq, on the floor of a Blackhawk, medics cutting his clothes off him as they tried to keep him from bleeding out before reaching base. Mac had been there then, gripping Jack's hand, anchoring him despite the increasing need Jack felt to flee the pain and just let go.

"Agent Dalton? Can you hear me?" The unfamiliar voice and the use of 'agent' snapped Jack into the present, images of Iraq receding like the tide as Jack blinked trying to get a bearing on his surroundings. He was indeed moving, but the sounds and sensations of a chopper were replaced by those of an ambulance. Jack could hear the sirens now, feel the sway of the stretcher. Jack swallowed hard, afraid he was going to be sick, which he imagined would really suck considering the fiery pain in his side and chest that had him groaning trying to escape the hands prodding him.

"Jack?"

Jack tried to move his head, recognizing the voice. "Bozer?" His voice sounded foreign to his ears, strained with pain, breathless.

"I'm here, man. Just take it easy." Bozer moved into Jack's line of sight, offering a weak smile breaking on his concerned face. "It's about time you woke up."

"Where…what's going on?" Jack's tongue felt too thick, his voice slurring like it did when he indulged in too many beers. He was confused, not remembering the details of their mission, why exfil included an ambulance and no sign of his partner. "Where's Mac?" His head was spinning, the dizziness intensifying the sick feeling in his stomach.

"Mac's at the hospital." Bozer's attempt at a grin was replaced by a deep frown he tilted his head when Jack continued to stare at him with half lidded eyes.

"You've been shot, Agent Dalton." Jack resisted the urge to say 'no shit', as the earnest face of the young EMT filled his field of vision. He was not confused about the fact he was obviously injured. "We're taking you to Tripler. We're about five minutes out."

"Tripler?" Jack looked to Bozer again, blinking. Enough of the haze was clearing from his mind to recall that they were in Hawaii and the events leading to him being currently strapped to a gurney speeding through Oahu. He licked his dry lips, trying to figure how long they'd been in route from the information that they were almost to the hospital where he'd left Mac earlier that morning. Unfortunately extrapolating distance and time calculations while suffering from several gunshot wounds was apparently way out of his skill set as the number kept slipping away from him like sand through his fingers, his head spinning even worse. Doing quick math in his head was more Mac's thing. Jack blinked once again, not remembering closing his eyes. Thoughts of his partner had him once more looking for Bozer.

"Mac? What's going on with Mac?" Jack's vision was wavering, though adrenaline helped to clear the last of the mental cobwebs. He felt his heart pounding furiously against his hurting chest.

"We need you to remain as still as possible, Agent Dalton." This time it was the older medic. He was on the other side of Jack, down near his injured leg. "You've lost a lot of blood and you have several broken ribs."

The blood loss would explain the fact he couldn't regulate his breath and why he felt as weak as a newborn colt. A pressing thought surfaced through all the haze in his head. "The antidote?" Jack tried to catch Bozer's gaze again, desperate to know if they'd gotten the drug to Mac and if it was what Nobel promised.

"It looks like it's the real deal." Bozer popped up near Jack's head, the younger medic giving him a hard glare but not telling him to move. Bozer lifted his phone so Jack could see it. "I talked with Jerry a few minutes ago. Dr. Kamaka ran a panel and was waiting on a confirmation from our techs at Phoenix and the ones in Washington. He hopes to administer the antidote within the hour if they concur with his findings."

"That's good…right?" Jack swallowed hard, feeling the tug of unconsciousness pulling at him once more. The unfamiliar look in Bozer's eyes had him fighting his body's need for release as each breath he managed was like throwing gasoline on the fire in his chest. "Bozer?" Jack didn't understand why the expression on the other man's face didn't quite line up with what he was telling Jack. "What's wrong?" He balled his hand to a fist, his nails digging into his flesh. It paled in comparison to the other pains but it helped fighting off the darkness that was creeping at the edges of his vision.

"Mac had another episode…" Bozer's eyes brightened and he exhaled slowly. "He stopped breathing."

Despite the fact Bozer's voice was fading in and out, or perhaps Jack was the one waning, the words Mac and stopped breathing were clearly understood. "What? No!" Jack bucked against the restraints holding him to the gurney, obviously surprising the medics when the stretcher shifted with his struggles which before had assuredly been pathetic and weak. Adrenaline now surged through Jack, feeding from the realty of his worst nightmare being fulfilled. The idea of failing Mac gave him what in his mind felt like 'hulk-like' transformation, but in reality only left him even more breathless and hurting, still confined beneath the straps and hands of the concerned medics.

"Take it easy, man." Bozer had shoved into the EMT's space now, his hand gripping Jack's shoulder. "Mac's alive. He's hanging in there." When Jack blinked, his wriggling ceasing some with the new assurance, Bozer tried for one of his more typical grins. "I'm guessing I should have started with that."

Jack didn't have the strength to spare for an appropriate reply which would have required some four-letter words and a fair amount of shouting, so he asked the only thing that mattered. "Mac's okay? He's still hanging in there?" Jack felt his eyes dropping, despite his best efforts.

"I wouldn't say okay, but he's holding on." Bozer ducked his head, but not before Jack caught the flash of fear in his gaze. The pain in his chest increased, the current knifing sensation having nothing to do with Jack's physical condition. "He's on a respirator, and his fever's gotten higher, but Noelani promised me that they were doing everything they could to keep his kidneys and other systems from shutting down before the antidote has a chance to work."

"Damn it," Jack wheezed. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, the rocking of the ambulance lulling him even as his mind raced with the dire revelation about Mac's condition. He forced his gaze to Bozer's once more, swallowing past another wave of nausea. "I need to see him, man."

"Dude, you nearly shared a body bag and a ride with 'Bernie' back to the hospital," Bozer hissed. He gestured to the medics still working on Jack. "In fact, his color _before_ I fitted him with my mask was better than yours is now. I am not explaining to Thornton, Riley, and especially Mac that I let you refuse treatment and bleed to death so you could have a nice visit." His voice rose. "If you insist, these guys might as well save their bandages and roll your stubborn ass on down to the morgue." Bozer looked indignantly to the EMT at his side. "Can a brother get a little expert back up here, please?"

"You'll be going to surgery as soon as we arrive, Agent Dalton." The medic glanced at his partner who gave a one shouldered shrug and then back to Jack. "Or we can take a page out of your friend's book and put a toe tag on you right now."

Jack hoped he managed to raise his middle finger high enough so that the EMT's could see just what Jack thought about their assessment. He turned a pleading, if bleary gaze to Bozer. "Then you go."

"I can do that." A hint of Bozer's genuine smile twitched at his mouth again. "Only Mac made me promise to stay with you." He relaxed some, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm beginning to feel a bit like a bed side vigil bouncy ball."

"I outrank, Mac." Jack managed, blinking again, his lids feeling impossibly heavier than before, his strength waning. Even if he didn't bleed out before they reached the hospital, there was no damn way he'd managed a chance to sit with his partner.

"Not in friendship seniority." Bozer held up a hand when Jack forced his gaze open just enough to accomplish a menacing glower, though his eyes never really focused. "But since this is technically sort of a mission I'll concede your point. Besides it's not like Mac's the type to toss me against a wall or anything."

"Mac's the strongest guy I know…" Jack willed one last ounce of energy and gave Bozer a knowing look. "But he needs to know he's not alone, he needs to …"

"I know, Jack." Bozer nodded, all joking replaced by mutual understanding. "I've got this one. You can stand down."

"Good." Jack blinked again, white sparks of light dancing in front of his eyes. Jack hated to stand down. Didn't know the meaning of surrender, but to willingly hand over what he saw as his job to keep guard over Mac was harder than any flying of a white flag. It was a failure on a level Jack couldn't begin to accept, even if a tiny, selfish part of him welcomed the promising oblivion, the release from pain and overwhelming fear Mac might be beyond saving. Not once had Jack ever abandoned such an important post, but his body was no longer responding to his command. Jack would have rather fallen on his sword than to admit defeat, but he also understood the battle was futile. He'd have to trust Bozer to pick up the slack, to take care of Mac, and a familiar voice taunted that in light of all that had transpired, he was probably a far better man for the job.

To be continued...


	14. Chapter 14

Guard Your Heart

By: Ridley

A/N: Here we are at the end of this adventure. I'm a little sad to see it go, but I hope you have enjoyed reading as much as I have writing. I did not intend for this to be novel length but the muse wants what she wants I suppose. I have loved each and every review and comment, especially the ones that made me want to work harder and dig deeper to bring you a good story. Thanks to Gib, Kelcor, and my marvelous beta Mary, who truly worked wonders for me in this tale. I hope the end does not disappoint. For those Supernatural readers that have left reviews, I have not abandoned SN fandom. I love those boys, and will hopefully be returning soon.

RcJ

The first thing Jack became aware of was the heaviness at his side, a soft warm weight on his shoulder. For a brief instance he felt that old familiar dread, like when he'd left some bar with a woman who'd seemed just perfect when filtered with a tequila haze. In the light of day, however, Jack had often been slammed by awkward reality, finding himself all tangled up in a stranger's sheets with a far from perfect person whose name he couldn't quite recall.

Of course those rude awakenings had mostly transpired during Jack's young and stupid days and if the aching head and stiff body wasn't reminder enough that he was currently far from young, there was the smell that assaulted his senses as he became more aware-medicinal and institutional rather than the likes of cheap perfume and rancid alcohol. A somewhat sloppy kiss to his face had him reconsidering the idea of a bad hook-up despite the evidence to the contrary, but when he finally forced his eyes open he was greeted by the familiar fluorescent lights of a hospital room, the tell-tale beeping of medical machinery. Then warm brown eyes, lolling tongue set in a furry white face filled his vision.

Jack jerked, regretting the sudden reaction as soon as his chest and his leg registered the movement. He groaned, earning him another lick across his face from Curie. Thoughts of the big dog and why exactly she was in Jack's bed was enough of a jolt to bring back bits and pieces of what had transpired to land him in his current misery sending a shot of adrenaline through his still heavily drugged body. With understanding came a realization that he'd given almost anything for it to simply have been a very bad one night stand.

"Welcome back."

Jack blinked, trying to clear his bleary vision.

"Mac?" He cringed at the roughness of his own voice.

"I'm not sure the kid would appreciate the mix up, but I'm flattered considering I've not had hair in going on fifteen years." Hammond patted his side, giving Curie a command to come down from Jack's bed. "I'm pretty damn sure I'm lacking in the way of IQ as well."

"Hammond…" Jack's throat was sore, his mouth dry. He swallowed trying to get his bearings. The details were still hazy, almost like he had indeed indulged in too many drinks, but Jack knew his mental fogginess was caused by being under anesthesia. Honestly, he'd preferred tequila. It was obvious he was in a hospital, the nagging need to ask about his partner was painfully clear. "Where's Mac?"

"He's in ICU." Hammond folded his arms over his chest. "Wilt's with him. Pauley's standing watch, too. We want to make sure all the loose ends are tied up before we lax security or let our guards down completely."

"How long…" Jack tried to sit up, grateful when his former commander reached across him to push the button that would lift the top of the bed, sparing Jack from any more movement than necessary. Jack was certain he was getting some good drugs through the IV in his hand, but the persistent dull ache of pain he was still feeling was an unwelcome reminder of Jonas's need to punctuate his major points with bullets. He swallowed thickly when a wave of nausea washed over him, hand and hand with a wicked dizzy spell.

"You were in surgery for about an hour." Hammond seemed to know what Jack was asking without much preamble, one of the benefits from having been through many hospital scenes together. The general glanced at his watch. "There was a brief stint in recovery and you've been up here for about three more, although your doctor seemed to think you'd be out for a while longer." One corner of Hammond's mouth twitched in his otherwise serious face. "I told him that was doubtful knowing how stubborn you can be. You were out just long enough for everyone else to clean up this damn mess."

"How bad?" With growing conscious came more pain. Jack tried to take shallow breaths so to not disturb his ribs more than necessary.

"They plugged the holes in your leg and you've gotten a handful of broken ribs, bruised sternum which will make breathing fun for a while but…"

"No." Jack shook his head, regretting the action when the room spun and another bout of nausea had him reflexively swallowing. He narrowed his gaze at Hammond, pulling the oxygen cannula from beneath his nose to hand loosely around his neck. "Mac? I want to hear about Mac, damn it."

Hammond took a careful seat on the edge of Jack's bed, running a hand over his grim face. "Mac's not good."

The monitor by Jack's bed beeped, although Jack didn't need a machine to tell him his pulse had just kicked into overdrive. He could feel every beat of his heart reverberate through his hurting chest. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying the kid's systems are shutting down. The doctor went into greater detail, but basically Nobel's toxin has done a real number up here." Hammond tapped his own forehead. "From what I gather, it's paramount to some kind of massive short circuit."

"But the antidote…" Jack remembered Kamaka's explanations, the dire warnings he and Noelani had doled out about worst case scenarios. The antidote was supposed to fix all of that.

"Dr. Kamaka isn't sure we got it to him in time." Hammond kept his eyes locked with Jack's. "I'm sorry, son."

"That's bullshit!" Jack snapped, his voice hoarse, causing Curie to whine, her head popping up over the bed again as she placed her paws on Hammond's leg. "Mac's going to pull through. They don't know him like I do."

Hammond's silence was bad, but the look he leveled on Jack, the one full of empathy and understanding had Jack's eyes burning, his throat threatening to close up with unchecked emotion. The general didn't do pity, yet there it was, undeniable in his old friend's dark brown eyes. Jack felt the urge to plead his case. "You get that right, Ham. You've seen what he can do." He slowly started to peel back the tape that kept his IV in place, desperate for his fingers to do something, to focus on anything else besides Hammond's look that told him they were quite possibly fighting a losing battle. "You know Mac. He's not going to let this end him."

"Did I ever tell you about my boy?"

The soft question caught Jack off guard. He shook his head, swiping a hand over his face when one tear dared to breach his defenses. "You once mentioned being a parent, but I didn't get the feeling you wanted to elaborate."

"Douglass." Hammond said as he ran a hand over Curie's head, his eyes staring at something only he could see. "After Frederick Douglass. I figured having a renowned abolitionist as a namesake was far better than Perseus Jr. Besides, I loved the idea that my son would carry the legacy of a man who understood what it meant to be free. Ironically, maybe just to spite me, Douglass spent the last years of his life in a cage of his own construction." He took a deep breath before continuing, when his gaze met Jack's again, his eyes had hardened. "Drugs bound him as sure as shackles did any of our ancestors. He overdosed on some synthetic street grade heroine two days before his twentieth birthday."

"I'm sorry." Jack couldn't fathom losing a child, the kind of damage that did to a person. He did understand the pain he went through when his father had died and how that grief had eaten away at him, how it still hung heavy on his not so great days. It was _almost_ the worst thing he could imagine. "But Mac…"

"Douglass was on life support for a week before I made the decision to let him go," Hammond interrupted Jack. He held Jack's gaze, unblinking. "It was the hardest thing I ever had to do and it broke my wife's heart, destroyed our marriage, and messed me up more than I can put in words, but it finally gave my boy his freedom. Sometimes we do what's right for those we love, even if it hurts like hell to do so."

"I'm not letting Mac go." Jack felt his temper flare as the impromptu story started to resonate as one of the general's teachable moments. The idea of pulling the plug on his partner, his best friend and brother did more to energize him than another dose of adrenaline. He didn't fly to Hawaii, let Nobel have his way, and jeopardize everything he held precious in his life to have it all end with Mac paying the ultimate price. He struggled into a more upright position, pain receptors tempered down by the recent burst of emotion. "I'm sorry about your son, Ham. Damn sorry. But I'm not cutting the string on my kid because you seem to think we're in some similar situation here. "

"Your MacGyver's next of kin, Jack, you have his power of attorney." Hammond said calmly, reasonably.

"I'm aware," Jack grit out, briefly wondering if maybe he was still unconscious and the entire surreal conversation with Hammond was some kind of drug-induced nightmare. The sharp bite of pain when Jack pulled the IV needle from his hand destroyed that fleeting hope.

"Dr. Kamaka was going to have this talk with you in case Mac reaches the point of no return, if the worst happens and he's brain dead, like with Douglass." Jack almost felt bad for the general, the man obviously uncomfortable in the role he'd been cast. Although he appreciated the fact Hammond had dug into his painful past as a way to try and relate with Jack, it pissed him off that he'd even suggest Mac was beyond help. Jack wasn't willing to even discuss the idea of Mac not making a full recovery with anyone, even someone he understood loved Mac, too.

"I thought it would be better coming from me." Hammond went on as he gestured to Jack's now bleeding hand. "Better for the doctor anyway, knowing your tendency to kick ass first and listen to reason later."

"Reason? Don't talk to me about reason. The doctors didn't think I'd pull through after Iraq." Jack pointed out, pitching the I.V. out of the bed. He forced himself to unclench his fist, as Hammond's attempt at lightening the mood struck too close to home. If he'd been able, kicking someone's ass wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibility. He'd at least have thrown a good punch at Hammond to knock some sense into him. As it was, he wasn't certain he wouldn't need the man's help to get out of the damn bed. "Mac didn't' give up on me. Not even when I was ready to say goodbye."

"Your situations weren't the same, son, and you know it." Hammond looked weary as he slid a hand down his face. "Your injuries were grave, but they were ones that could heal given time."

Jack swallowed hard, a new wash of tears blurring his vision. He silently cursed the drugs that were obviously wreaking havoc with his emotions, making his impenetrable walls too easy to breach. "Are you not telling me something? Did Kamaka tell you that Mac's brain…," Jack couldn't even bring himself to say the words out loud, the idea of Mac losing what defined who he was as terrifying as anything Jack had ever faced.

"No." Hammond quickly shook his head "Mac's brain functions are irregular, depressed, but he's still responding. Kamaka just wanted to make you aware that things could go south, so you could be on the same page with the team treating Mac, and I…well, I wanted you to know I have your back, that I understand what kind of weight you're bearing."

"I want to see him." All Jack needed to hear was that Mac was still holding on, that he was still with them. He didn't give a shit about being on the same page with some medical team. He only wanted to be with his partner. If Hammond wasn't on board to help with that goal, then Jack would figure something out. Crawling wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

"You aren't in the best shape yourself, Tombstone." Hammond folded his arms over his chest once more, his eyes briefly going to the still freely bleeding puncture wound the IV had left behind. He shook his head, holding up a hand when Jack started to open his mouth. "But going back to my earlier point on good reason, I'll see if I can make that happen before you cause some sort of scandal and get us all kicked out here or more than likely, do more damage to yourself. Like I said before, I've got your back. Always. So before you break something or pull something else loose, let me go get your nurse."

"Thank you." Jack relaxed against the pillows, feeling drained. He gave his old friend a nod as Hammond stood. "And thank you for having my back with Jonas. You're still a hell of a shot- for an old man who's spent the last three years behind a desk."

"I was cradling a rifle before your momma rocked you in her arms, son." Hammond arched a brow at Jack. "But taking care of Jonas was something I should have done a long time ago, instead of sending your team into handle it." Hammond inclined his head, giving a heavy sigh. "Jonas was my mistake, not yours. This all falls at my feet."

Jack could no more allow Hammond's willing acceptance of the responsibility for what happened to Mac than he could take the news that Mac might be terminal. But just as the general knew Jack's flaws, Jack also understood his former commander wasn't one to back down. He rubbed a hand over his burning eyes. "I'm just glad the bastard's dead and this whole mess is over. It is over, right?"

"As far as our side of it, it's over. We'll let the DEA and Joint Commission untangle any knots. And as for Jonas, I'm pretty sure he not only got what he deserved, but what he wanted." Hammond moved to the door, stopping to face Jack once more when he got there. "Speaking of what's deserved, I want you to consider your dept paid in full, Jack. No more missions. As of today, you're retired, for good this time."

"I thought an order like that had to come from someone with a couple more stars than even an old war dog like you has, Brigadier General Hammond." Jack arched an eyebrow at his old commander.

"You better than most should know it doesn't always come down to brass, Tombstone. Sometimes it just boils down to how badly a man wants to make something happen." Hammond called Curie to his side, not giving Jack a chance to respond before he and the lumbering dog disappeared.

Jack stared up at the ceiling, not caring that he could feel a tear slide down the side of his face. He had once wanted nothing more than to get Mac out of the Army. Jack had made that happen. He'd gotten them both home, but there were no last minute deals to make this time to liberate Mac, to get his brother back to safety. Jack had once promised Mac that a little faith could move a mountain, and he was desperate for that to be truth, because at this point a little hope was all Jack seemed to have. For Mac's sake and his own, he prayed it was enough.

RcJ

Mac blinked, his eyes opening without much effort. He frowned in confusion when darkness greeted him. Trying not to panic, he slowly sat up, grateful when nothing hurt or protested the action. His frown deepened when he felt cold, rough stone beneath his hands instead of what should have been cool sheets and a bed. It took Mac a little while to recognize the strange landscape. The vast darkness surrounding him didn't make pinpointing where he was any easier. His eyes were slow to adjust, and even when his vision modified to make out the chimneys and rock formations around him, his brain couldn't reckon with what he was seeing. Mac could not fathom why or how he was in Colorado, in the bowels of a cave he hadn't thought of in years. It made no sense considering Mac's last conscious memory was of Hawaii in the ICU of a hospital and the trip to Cave of the Winds had taken place years before, an impromptu adventure with Mac's dad.

Mac slowly got to his feet, noticing the lack of any lightheadedness. Taking a deep breath of the damp cold air of the cave he noticed the absence of the iron band that had seized his lungs earlier. Grateful for the ability to breathe once more, he did a 360 degree turn, suddenly lost in memories that seemed a lifetime ago.

James MacGyver had once been an avid spelunker, tackling caves such as Lechuguilla in New Mexico, and other notable caverns that allowed only skilled and vetted climbers and explorers a glimpse of their secrets. Mac's dad had been insistent on sharing a tame version of his experiences with his young son a few years after Mac's mother had passed. Although Mac had no idea what prompted the inspired trip, he had been excited at the prospect, hopeful that the journey might somehow uncover the father he remembered before his mother died. Unfortunately, the trip had taken a disastrous turn, only seeming to widen the gap between them.

Mac blamed the gypsum flowers. They weren't actually flowers, but mineral formations created when water picked up carbon dioxide and Sulphur on its way underground and transformed into sulfate prismatic crystal petals radiating from a central point to the degree of mimicking the appearance of an actual blooming plant. Even as a seven year old Mac had been fascinated by chemistry and the idea of these incredible subterranean occurrences brilliantly displayed in the glossy brochure his father had given him had captured his imagination completely. He became obsessed with seeing them for himself, which would have been fine if his father had taken the lantern tour which promised each participant a glimpse into one of the chambers containing the rare configurations, as well as their very own piece of gypsum at the end of the tour. James MacGyver, advanced spelunker and expert penny pincher that he was, insisted on taking a self-guided tour which he claimed would allow them more father/son time with the added benefit of sparing the extra cost.

When James ignored Mac's protests, Mac had taken it upon himself to rectify the slight by slipping away from his father at his first chance. He was determined and quite confident that he could use the map to locate the Gypsum Room, where he'd collect his own specimen and have ample time to study the flowers, but instead had ended up lost and very much alone. Mac swallowed, trying to ignore the increased beating of his heart that came with the recollection of how frightened he'd been. Not much different than the state he seemingly found himself currently. Only he wasn't seven.

As grown as he was, Mac experienced an unexpected onrush of that same old terror he had experienced as a child, compounded by the instantaneous return of physical distress he remembered quite well from his hospital room in Hawaii. He was suddenly freezing. Every inch of him hurt, as if he'd fallen from one of the outcroppings, hitting every jutting rock on his way down. He longed for a way out of both the cave and away from his current misery. Mac groaned, his body demanding he reclaim his seat on the rough rocky floor, an impulse he was all too willing to give into when he heard his name.

Mac faltered, an all too familiar pain reawakening in his chest. The voice was faint, like an echo from a great distance. For a moment he thought it was his father calling for him from the past, but when his name rebounded around the walls again, Mac was overcome with a wash of relief, an almost bodily tug towards the sound.

"Jack."

Thoughts of his partner buoyed Mac, giving him the strength to remain on his feet. Jack was looking for him, and Mac searched the darkness for a sign of which direction he should go to seek out his partner. Jack's voice reverberated again, fainter this time. Mac flinched as the ache in his head and chest seemed to rise, even as hope of a rescue faded.

"Jack?" He choked on the syllables this time, his breath becoming forced, once more slipping from his control. "No…" His fingers tightened on the stone wall, fighting to give him the leverage to remain upright.

Mac wanted to move, yet he had no idea which way to turn. Whatever light his pupils had allowed him momentarily started to shrink around him. Panic of being left alone once more prompted Mac to try and take a step. His feet refused to move even as his body lurched forward. Mac reached out hoping to buffer his blunder, expecting the pain of impact only to be met surprisingly with no resistance at all. He fell headlong into oblivion.

RcJ

Jack stopped talking, having thought he felt the slightest twitch from the cold fingers he held gripped in his hand. He searched Mac's still face, willing his best friend to open his eyes. There was no movement, the only sound now that Jack had stopped his latest story was that of the ventilator. Its awful hiss enough to prompt Jack to resume speaking even though his throat was sore and his energy waning. He pushed past the football sized lump that had sprung to his throat when he'd thought Mac had given even a tiny sign of life for the first time in the two days he'd been sitting at his partner's bedside.

"Come on, brother." Jack shook his head, eliciting a dizzy spell. He used his free hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. The move had him wincing as his broken ribs made themselves known. So did his leg, the throbbing now a constant reminder. He'd cut back on the pain medicine so he could stay somewhat vigilant. "Haven't you punished me enough? I mean, forty-eight hours of sitting here creating new ways to tell you how much of an ass I am, and what a mess I've made of things between us has to count for something. Right?" He took a shallow breath."I mean, I think I've groveled in every way possible."

Jack had not only apologized, but begged, pleaded, cajoled for Mac to come back to them. He'd promised everything, including not grumbling anytime it was Mac's turn to pick take-out and he chose the fru fru crap at the all vegan, no GMO, all locally grown, no taste food truck. "Give a guy a little break and wake up, even if it's just to agree with all the shit I've been confessing."

Jack had not only copped to all the lies he'd ever told over the years concerning missions, but admitted to every slight and misdirection he might have used against Mac in the name of keeping him safe in the field. This included things such as secretly beating the shit out of two agents who had even dared to think targeting Mac for some boyish bullying when they'd first come to Phoenix would fly, chewing Thornton a new one when she had the nerve to suggest forcing Mac to carry a weapon on all sanctioned missions, to using his own sources to try and track down Mac's father-long before Jack ever suggested Mac try it on his own. Jack didn't even leave out the part where he planned to make James MacGyver disappear for good. None of it had pissed off Mac enough to garner even the slightest indication that he was still fighting, that he wasn't completely lost to them as days went by and the doctors were starting to believe the worst.

"Please, Mac." Jack gripped his partner's hand tighter in his, not even ashamed of the brokenness in his voice. He'd given up any pretense of stoic strength and stalwart fortitude at the first sight of the kid he considered his little brother. Jack was glad Bozer had stepped out to give him some privacy on that initial day because he hadn't handled seeing Mac hooked up to all the machines, looking somehow impossibly younger and entirely vulnerable very well. In fact, Jack had never been more grateful to be in a wheel chair because he was pretty certain his legs might have failed him even if he hadn't had a bullet wound in one.

"Please, God." Jack squeezed his eyes shut, resting his head on Mac's arm, which was thankfully cool, the fever at least seeming to respond to the antidote. The pain the movement brought was a welcoming distraction. Jack had resorted to praying and then bargaining which was so out of his comfort zone it was almost comical. He'd thought of calling his Nana Beth, figuring she had more pull with the Big Guy upstairs but couldn't quite figure a way to explain to her what had happened to Mac. He knew his best friend wouldn't want to worry anyone else, but Jack didn't do desperation well. He tended to make a mess of things.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen Mac hurt before, even seriously injured like in Helmand, but there was a vacancy in the room this time. Mac had seemed to somehow slip away, leaving a mere shell behind. The experience was all too familiar, one not unlike what Jack had gone through with his father in his old man's final days when Jack had also talked a blue streak, as one-sided a conversation as the ones he still indulged with his dad at a marble rock in the cemetery.

"It will kill me, Mac," Jack whispered, eyes still closed. The thought of interacting with Mac only in a graveyard was unimaginable. "I won't do it. I can't."

"Jack?"

The touch on his shoulder startled Jack. He found Riley's worried eyes when he quickly righted himself in the chair, fighting hard to keep his breathing even, if shallow, careful not to reveal how much the sudden movement had hurt. "Hey, Riles." Jack wiped a hand over his face wincing at the growth of beard, knowing he probably looked like hell, especially if Riley's distressed expression was any indication. He forced a half smile for their computer tech's benefit. "Did you and Bozer grab some lunch?"

"Lunch was hours ago, Jack." Riley bit her lip as her concerned gaze went to Mac, then the machine breathing for him. She'd made it to the island the day before, thanks to Hammond's generous use of military property. McGarrett had gotten her and Bozer set up in hotel rooms close to the hospital, although both his teammates had been reluctant to leave Mac. "It's six."

"I guess time got away from me." Jack sat up straighter, releasing Mac's hand as he rolled some of the stiffness from his shoulders and brought his other arm to cover his aching mid-section. He resisted shifting his leg which was demanding he do so because Riley already looked upset and he didn't want to add to her worry.

"Did you at least sleep?" Riley took a seat on the edge of the hospital bed, letting her fingers wrap around Mac's, as if she, like Jack was afraid that Mac might not be able to find his way back if they didn't provide a constant tether.

"Yeah," Jack lied, doubling over slightly when his ribs twinged from ther hours of sitting in the same position. He'd already gone a few rounds with Steve on his need to actually use the bed he had on the fourth floor, instead of refusing to leave ICU. Surprisingly, Danny Williams had been the one to defend Jack's position, silencing his partner by pointing out Steve had never used good sense when it came to self-preservation and he shouldn't expect Jack to know any better considering they were cut from the same proverbial cloth that comprised all Neanderthal special forces drones. Jack was still adjusting to 'Danno's' love language.

"He'd be pissed that you're not following doctor's orders." Riley nodded to Mac, not looking one bit repentant when Jack narrowed his gaze at her. He didn't need anyone else nagging him. "You look like crap, almost as bad as he does. At least take a shower so you're not scaring the nurses and come to dinner with me and Bozer in the cafeteria."

"No." Jack shook his head emphatically. "I'm not leaving him alone."

"General Hammond offered to stay. Your friend, Pauley did too. We'll just be downstairs." There was a touch of pleading in Riley's tone, one that Jack had rarely heard. It had his chest tightening, knowing he was probably making a bad situation worse with his stubbornness but unable to just pretend that things were normal enough for him to have a meal with his team. Without Mac there was no team, at least not for Jack. Even the thought of food made his stomach churn. He could imagine Mac's disappointment that Jack was failing at holding his shit together for their make-shift family but still couldn't find it in him to relinquish his duty to someone else. Watching Mac's back was his job. "Making yourself sick will not help him. Mac would not want… "

"Don't." Jack hadn't meant to snap at her, but he didn't want to hear what his partner would or wouldn't want at this point. It was too close to the talk he'd had with Mac's medical team earlier. He took a breath and let it out with a sigh, making a real effort to soften his features, to put some care into his words. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes meeting Riley's. "Why don't you guys get out of this place, bring me back a couple of those Spam corndogs that Bozer keeps going on about, darlin'? Or some more of that magic shrimp that Kamekona brought by yesterday."

The fact Riley didn't call him on the whole 'darlin' thing was evidence she was cutting him some major slack he did not deserve. When she didn't pull away when Jack cupped his hand over Mac's once more, effectively trapping her fingers between them, he hoped the truce they'd formed at Christmas was still standing. When she offered a familiar smirk and held her free hand out in expectation, Jack felt his eyes sting.

"I'm not paying," she said with her usual attitude.

"Do I look like I have money on me?" Jack rolled his eyes, secretly pleased that the sassy girl he knew and loved was once more in the forefront. He gestured to the tee-shirt and gray sweats Steve had brought him. Jack hadn't even balked at the damn Navy getup this time, although a gown with a draft that showed his bare ass was almost preferable. "It's not like this hospital garb has pockets, sweetheart."

"Fine," Riley huffed. She carefully extricated her hand from between Mac and Jack's as she stood. "I'll add it to your ever growing tab, but I expect to be wined and dined properly when Mac is on his feet before we leave this island. I'm talking La Mer, which Jerry said is fabulous, not some food truck owned by your new friend Kamekona."

"When Mac is back on his feet, you can have anything you want, kiddo." Jack meant it. He'd already sworn to live a saint's existence, among other impossible things like a life of chastity. Cleaning out his retirement fund to treat his team to a real vacation was nothing, after all, it was highly likely Jack would die on the job long before he got to take over his grandparent's ranch.

"You're my witness, Mac." Riley continued to tug at Jack's fragile defenses as she leaned over and tenderly brushed a hand over Mac's hair, going so far as to whisper something in the blonde's ear. When she straightened she gave Jack another smirk, an evil twinkle in her eyes. "We'd also like a cushy room at the Hilton, and to see you on a surfboard."

"I'll make sure to buy some flowered Speedo's for the occasion." Thanks to losing a bet to no other than Steve McGarrett while on the coast of Australia, Jack could actually surf. It might be fun to surprise his young friends.

"Stop." Riley pulled a disgusted face. "Some of us actually want to eat dinner, old man."

"Then get to it before I ruin your appetite with the next story I'm about to share with Mac." Jack bobbed his eyebrows. "It has a naked super model and me on a Vespa."

"Escaping your grossly exaggerated tales, emphasis on _gross_ , should really be reason enough for Mac to wake up sooner rather than later." Behind the smirk on Riley's face Jack could see the uneasiness still lurking there.

"You'd think, right." Jack gave her a watery smile. "At least on stakeouts he has those damn paper clips to distract him from all my yammering."

"Keep talking," Riley assured, giving his arm a squeeze. "He'll come around."

"Why are you so sure of that when everyone else seems to think I'm wasting my time?" Jack met her gaze, he really wanted to know. He needed someone else on his side besides Danny Williams, someone who understood Mac. Even Bozer was starting to lose some of his optimism, looking far too much like a guy who'd just lost his best friend.

"Because I know Mac would do anything not to disappoint you." Riley surprised Jack once again by brushing his cheek with a quick kiss before moving towards the door. Jack might have imagined it, but he thought he heard her say something about her and Mac having that in common. She was gone before Jack could clear his throat of the lump that had once more reappeared.

"I guess miracles never cease, brother." Jack reached up and mimicked Riley's earlier move, sliding his hand over Mac's hair, letting his fingers move to rest against his partner's neck for a moment just to feel the reaffirming beat of a pulse. "Which means there's no reason you can't pull off a last minute recovery before the doc gives me yet another briefing on your odds and the decisions I'm going to have to make for you soon."

Jack reclaimed his best friend's hand. "What do you say? Spare this old heart anymore grief?" The sounds of the ventilator seemed to increase in the expanse of expectation, causing Jack to sigh. "Then I guess you'll just have to endure my days in grand ole pari." Jack squeezed lax fingers, ignoring the dull pounding behind his eyes. "Because I'm not giving up, bud. That's not going to happen so you might as well come on back and spare us both the recanting of some of Jack Dalton's less than finer moments." Jack shook his head when his partner remained defiantly and painfully still. "Alright then. Be stubborn. Where should I start? Well, for one, there's a reason a guy should never steal a Vespa for a getaway vehicle, especially if said guy is lacking in the pants department and is packing a very large gun…"

RcJ

The gypsum was more magnificent than Mac had imagined. Pictures didn't do it justice. Only moments before he'd awoken in the chamber he'd never found and explored as a boy. His breathing was easier here, getting up not a problem. It required no thought on his part. Any hint of his earlier agony was only a faint echo in his head and chest, like a quickly fading memory.

Mac traced a finger over one of the petals, awed by how the minerals seemed to glow from within when he touched it. It was mesmerizing, the entire room a wash of warm, welcoming light. It chased the cold from his bones. For a moment he was saddened by the fact he hadn't discovered this place when he was a boy, nor had a chance to share it with his dad. Instead, all those years ago, he'd fallen into the rapidly moving, gratefully shallow stream that ran through the caves. He'd been wet, nearly frozen and miserable when his father and the rangers had finally found him hours later huddled in an enclave. Mac moved his eyes over the glowing minerals, his regret quickly passing. He found it hard to be distressed while in the presence of such serene beauty. In fact, he felt happy, content. At peace.

Mac slightly tilted his head, certain he'd heard a noise. At the sound of his name he whirled around, this time thoughts of his mother flooded him. For a moment he almost imagined he could see her, shimmering among the garden of gypsum. She beckoned, but Mac frowned when the female voice that whispered through his mind again conjured different images. Ones of his home in California. People gathered at the fire pit on the back deck under a wash of stars almost as beautiful as the crystals surrounding him. His mother disappeared. Mac's hand still hovered over one of the crystal petals, a quick, sudden jolt of pain making him close his eyes for a second.

"Riley." Mac's breath caught with the thought of his friend. Bozer's face flashed before him, bringing a returning and unwelcome ache lancing through his head. The peace he'd embraced earlier started to slip away and he curled into himself as his lungs seized. Mac's strength deserted him and he slid down to one knee.

"Jack," Mac gasped, his head coming up as he once more heard his partner calling for him. His eyes locked on the one bleak place in the cavern, vision blurring slightly. It was void of crystals and it took Mac a second to realize it was the entrance that would lead him back into the cold, damp cave where he'd been lost as a child. He hesitated even when Jack's voice came to him again, desperate and frightened.

Mac had no doubt of the direction which he needed to take to reach his best friend, but also understood that with each step away from the light, pain would quickly gain ground, the understanding scaring him more than he cared to admit. Mac knew he had a decision to make. Staying would bring him solace and comfort, maybe even a reunion with those he had lost, but would leave Jack alone out in the darkness. A sudden image of his best friend, lying unconscious and pale on McGarrett's office couch flickered through his swirling mind. It spurred him on to make it back on his feet, and to take his first step towards the dark.

RcJ

Jack jerked awake, startled. His wounded body rebelled at the sudden movement that brought every injury to the forefront once more, dispelling the temporary reprieve of sleep. He cursed himself for drifting off on watch. The nagging sense he'd strayed from a vital post had him turning his head despite the crick in his neck brought on from sleeping slumped over the hospital bed to check on Mac, one hand still wrapped around his middle. He studied his friend with a trained eye, tilting his head as he took in the slack features, frowning. Mac was still out, but something was different.

He squeezed his partner's hand, the one still gripped in his own. "Come on, kiddo." He mumbled under his breath. Hope warred with dread as he leaned forward a little. When Mac opened his eyes, Jack almost fell off his chair.

"Mac!" He tightened his hold on the kid's fingers, praying he wasn't still asleep and only dreaming. He made it to his good leg, propping himself on the side of the bed. "Mac? Can you hear me? Stay with me, brother."

Mac blinked, his brow furrowing as he slowly regained consciousness. He turned his head slightly toward Jack and it was enough to have Jack nearly collapsing with relief.

"You're okay," Jack assured as he watched Mac's face react to awakening, seeing lines of discomfort appear. "I'm here. You're safe." Jack squeezed Mac's arm reassuringly with his free hand. He knew first hand exactly how disorienting and uncomfortable it was to come around surrounded by equipment in an unfamiliar setting. Throw in the vent tube and it was a far from pleasant experience. It could be damn scary, and panic inducing for someone like Mac who liked to be in control of a situation. It was a trait they shared and Jack had learned the hard way that Mac quickly regained enough of his faculties to pull things out that should stay where they were. As if Mac could read his thoughts, he started to squirm, becoming agitated, the constant beeping of the heart monitor increasing. The hand not being held by Jack, lifted towards the breathing tube.

"Easy, kiddo." Jack caught the younger man's wrist, careful of the IV, placing it back on the bed. The stubborn almost petulant look he received for his trouble brought a relieved chuckle from Jack, though his eyes flicked back to the heart monitor. "I know that thing is uncomfortable as hell, but how about we let the doctors earn their money by removing it. Leave it alone. Alright?" Jack's gaze searched Mac's clouded one. He doubted Mac the kid completely comprehended what he was saying, but he at least hoped he understood that Jack was with him and that he needed him to stay still.

Mac's eye lashes fluttered, eyes going unfocused again. It spurred spurring Jack to bring a hand to his face. He needed to keep the kid awake. "Stay with me, though. No more sleeping, Mac. You've got enough beauty sleep in to do you a few years."

Jack offered a blinding grin when his partner actually looked up at him, more awareness in his blue gaze this time. The frown on Mac's pale face deepened. Pain must have come with the cognition because when Mac blinked again, a couple of tears tracked down his temples to disappear into the pillow below. Jack's chest clenched, knowing that his best friend was probably hurting. Since the onset of the respiratory failure, the doctors hadn't given him anything except the antidote and necessary fluids, afraid to alter or compromise the chemistry of the serum they had administered. Having tubes shoved down your throat, and IV's running to and fro was a bitch even with a good drug buffer.

"I know you're hurting, bud. Just hold on. I'm going to call a nurse okay?" Jack released one of Mac's hands, leaning over his partner to press the call button that would bring relief for his best friend. "We need some help in here," he said a little breathless when one of the nurses at the front desk responded. His ribs protested at the awkward position. "Can you page Dr. Kamaka? Mac's awake."

Before Jack could move from over his partner, Mac's hand raised again, latching onto the front of Jack's shirt with surprising strength. The kid's fingers twisted tightly in the fabric. It was clear Mac wanted to say something, frustration mixing with the pain and disorientation easily read in his blue eyes as he choked on the tube preventing him from talking.

"Hey now." Jack gently wrapped his fingers around Mac's wrist, giving a slight squeeze. He fought to ignore the new spike in the increased beeping. "Surely you can wait a little longer to tell me how pissed you are at me. I won't even try to deny how much of an ass I've been"

An all too familiar stubborn frown crossed Mac's features and he looked momentarily confused. He gave a slight shake of his head, and Jack felt as if he had something wedged in his throat as well. Before he could swallow and speak again several nurses swarmed them.

"Jack, we need you to step back." He was on a first name basis with most of the nurses treating Mac. Harper, who had even stayed over after a shift one night entertaining he and Bozer with tales of the surfing circuit that had brought him all the way from Savannah, Georgia via the Army to work in Hawaii was the one at Jack's side now. He lightly touched Jack's arm. "Let's get you back in your chair." Not for the first time Jack wondered how bad he really looked when he caught the brief concerned look Harper was giving him.

"Just give me one second." Jack said as Mac grew agitated again once surrounded by the unfamiliar faces. "I want to make sure he's okay."

"We've got this. We'll take care of him," Harper insisted, his grip on Jack's arm a little more insistent.

Mac only tightened his own hold on Jack's shirt when Jack turned to look at Harper. He started choking again as he fought to speak. The beeping of the heart monitor reaching disturbing levels as another alarm sounded when a nurse gently peeled Mac's fingers from the folds of Jack's shirt.

"Mac, it's okay." Jack felt his own eyes burn, his emotions barely in check as he fought against well-honed instincts to protect his partner as the professionals trying to help him only elicited more panic in the younger man. Mac was still gripping his other hand, weakly fighting against the nurse who had captured the one with the IV. "Just take it easy, brother. These folks are going to help."

"Jack? What's going on?" Bozer burst into the room, breathless, followed closely by Riley. "Is he awake?"

"We're going to need you all to step out for a moment." Dr. Kamaka's voice was commanding and as unflappable as ever as he manuevered his way past the two newcomers, hurrying into the small room along with a colleague and the chemist who had come all the way from Washington to assist on Mac's case.

"Come on, Jack." Harper was patient, but the look he leveled on Jack told him that he'd use his six foot plus frame to escort him out if he needed to. "The sooner we let Dr. Kamaka have a go, the sooner you can come back."

As much as Jack hated it, he let go of Mac, slipping his hand out of his partner's grip. The kid's look of pleading was almost his undoing, yet he allowed Harper to replace him at Mac's bedside, blocking him from his partner's view. Bozer stepped up behind him to help him to his chair, Riley pushing it out of the room into the hallway, where the three of them watched as another doctor hurriedly entered Mac's room.

"Jack?" Bozer tried again, dropping to a knee so they were eye level, although Jack continued to stare at the door to Mac's room, cursing that he'd had all the blinds on the windows of the small ICU space closed for privacy. Now that he was an outsider he wanted nothing but to be able to see what was taking place. "What happened? Did Mac wake up?"

Jack cleared his throat, working to get his emotions back in check before he met his younger teammate's gaze. "He woke up."

"That's good, right?" Bozer let his eyes flick to Riley who was still standing behind Jack's chair. Jack couldn't see her but he could almost feel the tension radiating from the hand she had placed on his shoulder. He looked at Jack again, uncertainty flashing in his dark gaze as if he couldn't quite understand why Jack was so upset if Mac was indeed awake. "I mean awake is better than unconscious any day of the week."

Jack managed a nod, although he wasn't sure Mac would have agreed with Bozer's statement at the moment. He felt a tinge of guilt for thinking he'd take a scared, hurting Mac over an empty vessel of a best friend every time. "Awake is good, Boze, but it can be a bitch when you're the one who's been out of it for a while."

Harper came out of the room before Bozer could reply, he strode towards Jack, holding up a hand when Jack made to stand. "Easy there, big guy. I just came to give you an initial update." Harper nodded for Riley to move them to a small area out of the center of the ICU floor where nurses were bustling about the center desk like drones in a honeybee hive. "Mac's breathing on his own now." Harper said, as soon as they had a modicum of privacy. "Dr. Kamaka removed the vent and his lungs seem to have recovered proper function."

"Thank God." Jack ran a hand over his face. "Has he said anything?"

"Just your name," Harper said gently, shaking his head when Jack once more made to get up. "Dr. Kamaka had to give him a slight sedative to keep him calm. He was disoriented and fighting us. There are some tests and scans the doctors need to run before Mac's allowed any more visitors. He will be down in radiology for at least an hour, possibly more."

"But…" Jack started.

"No buts, Jack." Harper glanced to Riley and Bozer. "Mac is going to need you all when he's fully back to himself, which means you all need to make sure you're at your best."

Jack growled. "If you're going to tell me to go get some rest…"

"Actually, I was going to strongly suggest you let a nurse change the bandages on your leg. Then maybe take a shower and get a shave." Harper folded his arms over his chest, giving Jack a firm, no-nonsense look. "There's been complaints."

"Told you so," Riley murmured and Jack turned his head to glare at her.

"Eating something might also take the edge off your dour demeanor," Harper added with a slight smile.

"Our boy does get hangry," Bozer agreed, knowingly. "Trust me when I say you don't want to see him when he goes all Hulk."

Jack shot him a narrowed scowl as well which only seemed to make Bozer's point. "Fine," Jack conceded. "I'll go to my room and take a shower and grab some food, but you have to promise to text me as soon as Mac's back in his room."

"I'll come find you myself." If Jack wasn't mistaken Harper was looking straight at Riley when he made that generous offer.

"A text is good, dude," Bozer interrupted, moving to take his place next to their computer tech. "You all have excellent Wi-fi in the cafeteria."

Harper kept his easy grin in place as he turned his gaze once more to Jack. "I promise I'll stay with Mac during the tests. If he comes to, I'll make sure he knows you're all waiting for him."

"Thanks." Jack gave another longing glance towards the door of Mac's room, unable to escape the feeling that he was somehow once more leaving his best friend when Mac needed him most. Harper started to walk away but Jack caught his arm before he could go, wincing when the motion tugged at his ribs. He'd almost forgotten what Steve had told him Mac said after Jack had passed out on the rooftop, but his partner's words seemed to echo through his mind now, eliciting a grin Jack didn't quite feel. "Tell him I said Jerry West has nothing on Kareem Abdul-Jabbar."

"He'll get it," Bozer spoke up when Harper looked rather puzzled at Jack's words. "It's secret code."

"Gotcha." Harper gave a salute and started back towards Mac's room.

"But I got to say you two are totally wrong on this last word thing this time." Bozer jabbered as Riley turned Jack's chair around and headed towards the elevator at a hurried speed as if she was afraid Jack might suddenly change his mind. "I mean if you really wanted to win, why not call out Shaquille O'Neal? Bam. You're done. "

"Don't forget my man, Kobe Bryant," Riley added. "What about Magic Johnson?"

Jack listened as his teammates argued their points on a litany of other Laker players, doing so, he understood, for his benefit. He didn't bother to chime in or to explain that winning was never the point of his and Mac's game. Not really. The point had always been and would always be that they both stuck around to keep playing. He closed his eyes as the elevator car took them to the fourth floor, sending up a quick thank you to anyone listening that once more it seemed they had avoided tallying the final score.

RcJ

Mac awoke with the echo of gunfire still ringing in his ears. He greedily gasped a breath as he tried to blink his surroundings into view, the images from his nightmare still bleeding in and out of his field of vision, deep crimson blood mixing poorly with the stark white walls surrounding him. The image of Nobel aiming his gun at Jack, pulling the trigger to shoot Mac's partner point blank in the head as Jack lay helpless to defend himself was on replay.

"Jack!" Mac could barely lift his head, but quickly realized he was in a hospital bed, the sounds and smell a dead giveaway. It could have easily been the same hospital bed he'd been in when he'd witnessed the final showdown between Jack and Jonas, sans Nobel actually killing Jack, but the glass walls of an ICU ward told him he was somewhere different. His heart hammered against his chest as he tried to convince himself that Jack's brains splattering on the concrete of the rooftop was a horrible fiction conjured by his psyche and not terrible truth.

"Hey." The hand on Mac's arm had him turning his head too quickly, the room spinning with his sudden movement. He heard a groan, realizing it had come from him when Bozer leaned further into his personal space, his eyes wide with worry. "Mac? Can you hear me?"

"Boze?" Mac squeezed his eyes shut, willing the wave of nausea to pass, taking a deep breath. He could feel the cool oxygen from the cannula beneath his nose and was beyond relieved that his hungry lungs didn't seem to need his concentrated effort to actually work now, even though they were still oddly heavy, just like his arms and legs.

"I'm here, Mac." The worry in Bozer's voice had him forcing his eyes open once more, a concern of his own making itself quickly known as another round of images from his most current nightmare flashed through his mind. Jack lifeless an unseeing. Nobel grinning at Mac from the computer screen. He sent a sweeping glance around the room, instantly realizing what was missing, or more importantly, who was missing.

"Where…" He managed before his raw throat had his voice cracking, cutting his question short on a painful cough.

"You're still at the hospital, man." Bozer reached for a cup of ice on the table by Mac's bed. "You just came back from having some scans where they gave you a light sedative. They said you'd be woozy for a while."

Mac shook his head, even as he greedily accepted the spoonful of chips Bozer offered. He swallowed, grateful for the coolness and moisture that would allow him to speak again. "Jack?"

"Where's Jack?" Bozer repeated, looking infuriatingly calm as he offered Mac another spoon of ice. This time Mac kept his lips firmly pressed together in a grimace even as his heart rate kicked into overdrive. He knew Nobel had not put that final bullet in Jack, that Hammond had killed him before he had the chance. Still, the last thing Mac clearly remembered was McGarrett telling him Jack was bleeding out, the bullet he took through his leg having nicked an artery. Worst case scenarios invaded his thoughts, the beep of the monitors picking up cadence right along with his fear.

"Take it easy, Dude," Bozer said, his voice high pitched with his own alarm. "Jack's fine…I mean he's not fine or okay, because I know you two don't use those words. So, Wilt Chamberlain is better than Jerry West. Or maybe it was Magic Johnson trumping Shaquille O'Neal."

"What?" Mac tried to push himself up in the bed, finding he had no strength to even hold his weight on one elbow, let alone make it to sitting, or to his ultimate goal of climbing out of the damn bed. "He's not okay…"

"Who's not okay?" Jack asked as Riley rolled him into the room. His hair looked damp, and Mac caught the scent of soap or shampoo. Most importantly, aside from the wheel chair he was riding in, Jack looked completely whole.

"You." Mac looked from his partner to their computer tech, both of them sporting grins as they came closer to his bed. He sagged against the mattress with visible relief, his eyes burning with tiredness. "Bozer said…you weren't okay."

"What?" Jack kept his smile in place but Mac didn't miss the look his partner shot Bozer. "Apparently my state of well-being has been greatly underestimated."

"Don't be glaring at me." Bozer lifted his hands in exasperation. "You two are the ones who don't used the words 'okay' or 'fine' or 'it's all good' like any normal human beings. What does that leave a guy with when his buddy asks how a guy is doing? It's not my fault, you two have to speak in code so that the other doesn't think the worst, which is some serious messed up psychology if you ask me."

"No one's asking you, man." Jack handed a brown paper bag to Bozer. "Cut your unhelpful commentary and eat your burger." He turned his gaze back to Mac. "How you doing, brother? You look a hell of lot better than you did a couple of hours ago."

"He has no room to talk, Mac." Riley moved from behind the chair, taking a seat on the edge of the hospital bed, squeezing Mac's blanket clad foot gently. "Jack went days without a shower and shave. It took three nurses a hose and some hedge clippers to make him presentable."

"She's exaggerating, as usual," Jack reached over and gripped Mac's wrist. Despite his schooled features Mac could easily see the slight flash of pain that briefly raced over his partner's face. "They should have seen us in the desert after a five day mission with only a pack of baby wipes between us. Compared to those days, I was as fresh as a daisy when they ordered me out of here to clean up."

"I'm trying to eat, here." Bozer mumbled around a mouthful of burger. "Hospital food is bad enough without those images."

Riley snorted. "At least he didn't mention his Speedos."

"How long?" Mac was comforted by the banter of his friends, but hadn't missed the underlying weariness that clung to each of them despite their attempts at normalcy. Jack's eyes were haunted, the lines in his face deepened and more pronounced by an exhaustion he couldn't disguise with humor.

"You were out a few days." Jack's face blanched a bit. He didn't meet Mac's gaze, instead studying one of the machines monitoring Mac's condition as if it held some vital information. "It was touch and go for a while, brother."

"Is that why you're here?" Mac cleared his throat, wincing at the strain. He looked to Riley, who looked to Jack as if she wasn't quite certain of what she should say in fear she reveal too much, too soon. He had expected as much. His memory although littered with missing gaps, was detailed enough that he recalled the terrifying feeling of not being able to breathe, the doctors and nurses scrambling around him as he was no longer able to fight the effects of the toxin. If he was honest with himself, he'd thought it was the end.

"Did you really think I was okay with you guys coming to Hawaii without me?" Riley gestured to Bozer, not willing to admit that everyone else might have thought the same thing as Mac. "I would have never heard the end of him bragging about all the cool things he got to do and see on the island, not to mention Hammond's super spy jet, which I got to ride in by the way." Her eyes brightened when she looked to Mac and he knew her well enough to know she was fighting back tears. "I knew you weren't going to check out on us. In fact, I was so sure I made Jack promise that once you were awake he was going to treat us all to a real vacation, at the Hilton no less. I even packed my bathing suit."

"Is it a pink whole piece with kittens on it?" Bozer asked, working to keep a serious face but his mouth twitched. "Because I was detecting a theme while you were back at your mom's place?"

"I'll guess you'll have to wait and see when Harper takes us out for those surfing lessons he's promised." Mac had no idea who Harper was but if Bozer's gutted look of betrayal was anything to go on, he had a feeling he'd have a chance to hear all about him, as well as his roommates inevitable laments about whatever barely there, more string than material suit Riley would surely choose now.

"How about you two go contact Thornton and let her know Mac's back with us." Jack looked from Bozer to Riley. "I wouldn't mention our vacation plans, unless you want her finding us a convenient mission somewhere nearby while Mac recuperates. Just because I'm temporarily down a leg doesn't mean she won't have me hobbling around some jungle if she even catches a whiff of us even thinking about having fun on the company dime."

"I'll give her the lowdown," Bozer assured, coming alongside Mac to squeeze his shoulder. "I recall Dr. Kamaka saying he wanted to keep a close eye on Mac for at least the next week or so, just to make sure there are no residual effects from the toxin."

"What?" Mac felt a different kind of panic worm its way to the surface. He was ready to be out of the hospital immediately. The idea of staying days to be poked, prodded and monitored was unthinkable.

"Take it easy, brother." Jack's hand had reclaimed his wrist, giving a reassuring squeeze. "I think Bozer's exaggerating for our benefit." His partner turned to Riley. " _You_ talk to, Patty. Keep our timeline vague and whatever you do don't let mister 'I give away too many details and ramble incoherently when I'm hiding something' have the phone."

"You really know how to break a guy's confidence, Jack." Bozer grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"I also know how to break every bone in a guy's body, Bozer." Jack frowned at the younger man. "Now scram before I care to demonstrate how I can do it while temporarily confined to a wheelchair."

"I know how to take a hint," Bozer huffed, giving Mac's shoulder another squeeze before taking his burger and heading for the door.

Riley rolled her eyes at Mac, offering a put upon sigh as she hopped from the bed. "Only if that were true." She pointed to the brown bag in Jack's lap. "Make sure he eats, will you? He's been on a self-imposed hunger strike since you've been out. It's not like I care if he starves or anything," She added, with a narrowed glance in Jack's direction, though a twinkle appeared in her eyes. "But the sooner his doctor gives him the bill of good health the sooner I get to move into the Presidential suite at the Hilton."

"Suite? I didn't agree to a suite," Jack called after her, grumbling something about his retirement under his breath. When he refocused on Mac he gave a shake of his head. "Between you and her I'm pretty sure the rest of my hair is a goner. As much as I love my man Bruce Willis, I'm just not sure I can pull off his bald look."

"Are you really okay?" Mac asked, glancing to the wheelchair and Jack's carefully outstretched leg, noting the loose sweats Jack was wearing, the t-shirt proclaiming him a member of HPD, which was much better than one with allegiance to Navy. "I hate to see what you looked like before I woke up."

"I promise I'm good, although thanks for adding bruises to my ego to match all the other bruises I've got going on other places. Don't you want to know how you're fairing?"

"Bozer said they ran tests." Mac tried to reach for the bed remote but Jack beat him to it, raising the top of the mattress for him. "I'm guessing the fact that I'm awake means Nobel was telling the truth about the antidote." He cleared his throat again, not used to talking yet.

"He was," Jack nodded. "I'm sorry as hell that I didn't…"

"Did you have surgery on your leg?" Mac asked, cutting his partner off before Jack could profess some undeserved guilt on his part.

Jack smirked, shaking his head at the redirect. "The leg wound isn't as bad as the ribs, which hurt like a sonofabitch. I only agreed to this chair to keep my doctor and my new nursemaid, McGarrett, off my back." He rolled his eyes in exaggeration when Mac continued to give him a skeptical regard. "I'll be walking around without a limp in no time, but my chest might take a while to lose all the pretty colors, so stop worry about me and focus on you." Jack hadn't released his grip on Mac's wrist, his fingers tightening marginally as his face grew more serious. Mac's chest tightened almost painfully as he easily read the recent suffering in Jack's dark gaze, noted the slight break in his partner's voice. "You really scared the hell out of me this time, bud. We barely got the antidote in you in time. As it was, you nearly didn't pull out from the nose dive. It was like the mission that should not be named, only worse."

Mac had to agree that the last few days might have even put Cairo to shame. He'd been shot, lost Jack, found Jack, only to watch Jack be blown up in a house and then gunned down by a psychopath, all the while battling a poison that slowly shut down his body to the point of near death. He offered his partner a weary half grin. "At least there were no snakes."

"Always looking at the bright side." Jack laughed, releasing his grip on Mac to sit up straighter. Mac didn't miss the way he guarded his ribs as he did. "Just one of the things I love about you, brother."

"I love you too, you know." Mac's response surprised them both. He couldn't even blame a drugged stupor or a weak moment in his defenses brought on by pain. Except for the faint resounding of an ache in his head and an overall tiredness and residual weakness that reminded Mac of the few times he'd had a really bad case of the flu, he felt normal. It might have been the dream about the gypsum flowers that stirred thoughts of his father and the way his dad had always held back a part of himself after Mac's mother died, guarded against whatever else life might throw his way. Jack, on the opposite end of the spectrum held nothing back, instead often leaving his heart wide open. Mac did not want to make the same mistakes that his old man did, but also accepted that he was not nor never would he be as free with his feelings as Jack.

"Look, I'm still pissed at you for leaving LA without me, and that you didn't tell me about the missions for the Army," Mac continued on before he lost his nerve and reverted to his more reserved, introspective nature. James MacGyver had possessed the same reset, a fact that was never been driven home more to Mac than the day when he finally found his small son, wet, cold and frightened in the Cave of the Winds and could do nothing but point out the faulty logic in Mac's plan to find the cavern on his own, even going so far as to emphasize the turns he'd missed on the map.

Mac coughed, his voice growing rougher as Jack continued to stare at him as if might have incurred some kind of brain damage from his short amount of time without oxygen. "Not to mention every stunt you've pulled here in Hawaii to keep me out of harm's way knowing that I can handle whatever situation I find myself in, because instead of being a _kid_ , I'm actually a seasoned agent; but I know everything you did was because you wanted to protect me."

"Mac…" Jack seemed to have recovered from his initial shock and attempted to intervene, but Mac lifted a hand to cut him off.

"As much as it drives me crazy sometimes, and let's be clear that it does drive me crazy, I know that's who you are, and that what you do, you do out of love. I'm lucky to have you, Jack. Really lucky." Mac wasn't about to add that realizing the sacrifices Jack had made might have even made him love the big jerk even more. After all, he didn't want to encourage his partner's tendency for self sacrifice.

"I knew it." Jack's dazed smile quickly morphed into a familiar cocky grin telling Mac he'd made the right call. He wanted there to be no more misunderstandings between them. "Even after all that's gone down, all the bad shit you've found out, you'd still share your French fries with me and not even ask for any of mine in return."

"What does that even mean?" Mac frowned, not following. Maybe Jack was the one who had suffered some sort of brain trauma.

"It means love makes a man do mighty crazy things, brother."

"If you mean like a guy letting a crazy person shoot him in the chest at point blank range, not once, but twice, then yes, I would have to say love makes _YOU_ do really crazy things, Jack." Mac couldn't help pointing out Jack's own blunder with logic. He was after all, despite Jack's years of influence, his father's son.

"Hell, bud, I thought we settled the whole 'I would do just about anything for you' a long time ago. I don't look at it as being crazy as much as I consider it protecting and maintaining an investment." Jack grinned, his gaze meeting Mac's. "My payout's been way better than I expected or deserved."

Mac cleared his throat again. "There's not a lot I wouldn't do to maintain my investment in you either, Big Guy."

"Really?" Jack leaned forward a little, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. "Because forget surfing with Harper, I have always wanted to ride horses on the beach."

"Except for that." Mac arched a brow at his best friend, his fingers unconsciously messing with the tape of the IV. "What are you a teenage girl?"

"If you want something a little more macho, then how about Cliff diving?" Jack suggested, sitting back in his chair to open the brown bag he was holding. He pulled out a sandwich wrapped in greasy parchment paper and arranged it on his lap. "I hear it's the ultimate rush."

"As if we haven't had an adrenaline fueled adventure already." Mac shook his head, relaxing further back into the pillow. "Just no."

"Hula lessons then?" Jack grinned around his first big bite of BLT, bobbing his eyebrows.

"Absolutely not." Mac said firmly. There would be no grass skirts in his near future. Maybe brotherly bonds did have its limits.

"We could try puffer fish?" Jack interrupted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I bet they have it at that fancy restaurant Riley wants to go to."

"That's it." Mac groaned, gesturing to the brown bag, the suggestion they willingly consume a well-known toxin stealing the last of his patience. "Are there fries in there?"

"Maybe," Jack hedged, suddenly looking uncertain.

"Hand them over." Mac reached his hand out, cursing how heavy the limb still felt, Jack begrudgingly giving up the brown bag. He smirked at his pouting partner. "Forget love, if you'll revert to our original vacation plan of some relaxing down time on the beach, then, maybe I'll share."

"But…" Jack started. Mac raised a brow, giving a little shake to the bag. Smells of greasy golden goodness wafted about. Jack sighed. "Fine. Be boring."

"As if." Mac snorted, shaking his head at his partner-his brother. "We are a lot of things, Jack, but we are never, ever boring."

Until the next adventure…The End


End file.
